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SAINT MAMMON 


A Novel of American Society 


-/// 





NEW YORK 

THE BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 

1908 




LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

OCT 26 1908 

Copyright tntry _ 
CiAss G L Mxc. No. 


Copyright, 1908, by 
WILLIAM NEELY FREEMAN 





Mrs. Snubbody- Jones very graciously permits herself to be 

at home to Society. 




THE AUTHOR’S BEST BOW 

Once upon a time an European 
artist, being on a first visit to 
America, was asked if he found 
anything in the country to admire, 
and replied that in a certain city he 
ran across one of his own paint- 
ings, which impressed him favor- 
ably. 

I take this as proof positive that 
a literary man may claim the right 
to champion his own work. 

Therefore, while the orchestra 
is dispensing sweet melody, and 
the footlights are turned low, the 
author will avail himself of the 
opportunity to whisper a few words in the ears of 
the first-nighters who have assembled to criticise 
him. 

Frankly, he begs their indulgence. As to the 
story itself, it is only another lesson in vanity and 
the comedy of human life. Let the sublime take 
off its hat to the ridiculous ! Let the natural yield 
for a moment to the artificial ! 

Not only so, but he has attempted to resurrect an 
old literary form that has been rejected by modern 
realists, and he fears he challenges the critics by 



2 


SAINT MAMMON 


the act. This novel belongs to the subjective 
school, and if that is not enough to condemn it at 
once, it is a satire in the bargain. Everybody is 
expected to protest, because humor, and not satire, 
is supposed to furnish the keynote of our budding 
American literature. 

Consequently, the author makes his best bow 
to a critical public with a palpitating heart. It 
is hard enough to overcome stage fright; but the 
consciousness that all those grim-looking people 
in the front row have come here determined to find 
fault with him, makes his position very embar- 
rassing. He is aware that the piece is peculiar, 
and he will be thrusting himself into it from time 
to time, after the fashion of the old Greek chorus. 
He is his own manager, his own conductor, and has 
charge of the stage business as well. He has aimed 
to write a melodrama, dealing with some phases of 
American society. Perhaps he has made a farce of 
it ; or it may be voted only fit for the vaudeville. 

It goes almost without saying that he does not 
feel very combative under such circumstances and 
regrets that he is forced to take up the cudgels in 
his own defense, right from the start. All the 
weak points in the plot force themselves on him 
with painful bluntness now — the labored episodes, 
that may impede the action, the clumsy climaxes, 
that can only disappoint — so that its clever things 
do not seem so good at this moment. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I make you my best bow, 
and crave your indulgence for this new venture. 


SAINT MAMMON, 


3 

Anybody not satisfied with it may demand the 
money back from the box office. The play has 
been staged regardless of expense, so please try to 
endure it, until the curtain has gone down for the 
last time. The members of the company have 
been chosen with care. Please be ready to ap- 
plaud, if one of them does a good turn, and don’t 
be afraid to discover a new star among them. 

And to those who differ with me in regard to 
literary standards, I beg to say that I seek no quar- 
rel with the realists, when I point out that they 
only represent an extreme of the objective school. 
If now objective realism is such a fine thing, w r hat 
is the harm in subjective realism? Surely, it is not 
fair that the subjective school be driven from the 
field of art altogether. The history of literature 
will show, I think, that art flourishes best when 
the subjective school and the objective have worked 
together to elevate it, and maintain the best stand- 
ards by their friendly rivalry. If now we can im- 
prove the tone of our young literature by restoring 
the subjective to its rightful place, by all means 
let us do so. 

America has produced two great novelists, who 
have attained a world celebrity. Strangely 
enough, one of them belongs to the subjective 
school, and the other belongs to the objective. 
Nathaniel Hawthorne is subjective, and with him 
repressed satire rises to the sublimest heights of 
the subjective philosophy. Edgar Allan Poe is 
objective, and it is a significant fact that in an age 


4 


SAINT MAMMON 


of realism the critics crown Hawthorne and seek 
to ignore Poe. But to extol one of these men at 
the expense of the other is unjust. They are both 
great in their particular line. They belong to a 
period that is fast being recognized as the Augustan 
age of American letters, and they prove that the 
subjective school and the objective flourished to- 
gether during that brilliant epoch. 

But some one may ask why satire? Must we 
see the covert sneer in every sentence? Must we 
be told that society is all sham and humbug? Must 
we believe that people are hollow-hearted, and act 
from selfish motives alone? 

I fancy it is a woman I am dealing with now, 
and, madam, I make you my best bow. 

The satirist is not afraid to say that he does 
not deal in sweetmeats and sugarplums. Pickles 
would be more in his line, or some dish with plenty 
of spice in it. Of course, the public, which likes 
its pill coated, will make a wry face at many of the 
morsels he forces on its intellectual palate. As a 
matter of fact, there is very little difference between 
satire and some realism. But there are too many 
people in this world who think that everything 
they approve of has a sacred character, and it seems 
sacrilege to them if their prejudices are called into 
account. These people will resent the insinuations 
of the satirist, as they will frown at the bluntness 
of a realist. Let them stop to consider, however, 
that some of their most cherished idols may be 
only clay after all. 


SAINT MAMMON 


5 


Furthermore, history will prove that there does 
not begin to be a society in any country until some- 
body has satirized it. 

Now I grow bolder and hasten to state that a 
literary bluebook of American society, such as this 
novel aims to be, excuses satire, and calls for sub- 
jective moralizing in the bargain. Satire will sug- 
gest itself to its author for his own protection, be- 
cause a satirist can say one thing when he means 
another. This is a kind of poetic license, that has 
been granted him by literary usage. The dull peo- 
ple, whom it might annoy, will miss the point of 
it altogether, and the clever ones will appreciate it 
best when its wit is slyly hinted. It is no light task 
to hit off the foibles of the fashionable world, and 
the man who would do so must be on his guard 
lest he offend it. He may hate sham and rail at 
hypocrisy openly; but to attempt to unmask society 
and to tear aside the thin veneer of affectation 
under which it may choose to hide itself — this is 
dangerous work, indeed! 

But, in addition to all these drawbacks, I find 
myself handicapped in another particular. The 
leading lady of the company cannot be persuaded 
to have her diamonds stolen, in order to swell the 
receipts of the box office. In vain it has been rep- 
resented to her that she owes it to me to submit 
to this kind of advertising. Furthermore, she 
objects strenuously to all things sensational. She 
will not go through a millrace, and be seized by 
the hair, just as she is about to be torn to pieces. 


6 


SAINT MAMMON 


She will not be tied to a railroad track, when the 
lightning express is due. Neither will she drag 
the hero out of a dynamite mine ten seconds before 
the explosion. Lastly, she positively refuses to 
play against the stereotyped stage villain. 

I ask myself in despair now, was ever genius 
foiled as mine is? It is not enough that I should 
be deprived of the only chance to create a pink-tea 
heroine; but in these days of sensationalism, I am 
forced to stand on the merits of my work alone. 

If, therefore, my climaxes are voted tame af- 
fairs, and the plot is considered weak, the fault 
is not wholly mine. If the limelight is not turned 
on, when the galleries clamor for it, I respectfully 
request that I be held blameless. 

But enough of this. While I have been talking 
at random here, just to keep my courage up, the 
people on the stage have been busy, and now send 
word that the supreme moment is at hand. 

The footlights are beginning to twinkle, the 
orchestra strikes up an overture, and even the bald 
head of the bass viol wears an expectant air, as 
it bends over the instrument. 

The members of the company have received the 
order to take the stage, and the play is about to 
begin. 

Having now done everything in his power to 
ingratiate himself with the audience, and predis- 
pose them in his favor, again the author makes 
his best bow, and the curtain rings up on this 
comedy. 


BOOK I 


CHAPTER I 

The night on which Madge was expected to 
arrive, Mr. Willoughby went to the train, satis- 
fied that he was about to behold a superior being, 
instead of the romping schoolgirl, with whom he 
had been only too glad to part a few weeks pre- 
vious. For, candor compels the statement that 
his niece’s sojourn at his home in Heathdale dur- 
ing the summer vacation had been marked by a 
series of escapades which led him to fear she would 
turn out nothing more than a harum-scarum tom- 
boy. But, now that he had heard her praised in 
high quarters, he began to suspect that she had 
undergone some social metamorphosis since he be- 
held her last. 

When his friend Mrs. Bangup fell to praising 
Madge one day as a girl likely to cut a figure in 
society, Mr. Willoughby could scarcely believe his 
ears. Bless my soul, what had happened to the 
child? For lack of better evidence he was inclined 
to accept this as a compliment to the family in 
general. He had always believed that Willoughby 
refinement was something very superior indeed, 


7 


8 


SAINT MAMMON 


and he was satisfied that it had begun to assert itself 
in this niece, in spite of her natural forwardness. 
Mrs. Bangup, be it remembered, was a woman 
whose friendship anybody might be proud of. She 
had taken a fancy to Mr. Willoughby, and some- 
times placed her carriage at his disposal. 

Then came another surprise. Mrs. Humphrey 
Provost, sister-in-law to the great Mrs. Saltearth, 
asked permission to take Madge abroad for a year 
after she had finished her education, and Mrs. Van 
Hurdle, whose daughter was attending the same 
boarding-school only the year before — the great 
Mrs. Van Hurdle, so well known in fashionable 
circles — invited Madge to spend Christmas recess 
at her house, and on the evening when this story 
opens, Mr. Willoughby found himself going to 
the depot to meet his niece in Emily Van Hurdle’s 
company. 

Now it was that his heart went out to her as 
it had never done before, and he admitted that 
the girl was a credit to him, and he had never 
realized how fond he was of her. Bless my soul, 
who would not be proud of a child that could win 
such praise as this ! 

Emily Van Hurdle had been Madge’s room- 
mate the previous year at Miss Withermaid’s 
Academy, and on the way to the station she en- 
tertained Mr. Willoughby by pouring into his ears 
such a list of his niece’s virtues, that he was ready 
to believe her family instincts had begun to assert 
themselves at last. Yes, he was satisfied that she 


SAINT MAMMON 


9 

was turning out a Willoughby of Willoughbys, 
after his own ideal. 

Among other things, Miss Emily declared that 
Madge bade fair to be a great beauty, and was 
very clever in the bargain. Why, even the princi- 
pal of the school, the pompous Miss Withermaid 
herself, spoke of her as her most promising pupil, 
and praise from such a source was not to be valued 
lightly, for Miss Withermaid was held in high 
repute for her mental attainments, and it was whis- 
pered in some fashionable drawing-rooms that in 
the fierce pursuit of culture she had mastered the 
writings of the lamented Robert Browning, who 
died before he had time to explain what his poetry 
meant. 

Mr. Willoughby, we repeat, discovered now that 
he was very proud of Madge. Bless my soul, he 
had always considered her a wonder ! It had been 
his idea all along that the chief aim of her educa- 
tion should be to bring out the Willoughby that 
was born in her, and that done he would have no 
fear for the rest. It was very evident that this 
was just what had happened, because people like 
Mrs. Van Hurdle would not have discovered her 
in any other case. 

It was the height of Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby’s 
ambition to get to be a man of fashion, and it 
could not fail to impress him in her favor, if his 
niece should develop a liking for the very society 
he himself aimed to shine in. He came to town 
this winter ostensibly for his invalid sister’s health, 


10 


SAINT MAMMON 


but at the same time he formed plans to push his 
interests in a social way as much as possible. Now 
that Madge had formed such desirable connec- 
tions, he promised himself that the season was 
bound to be a profitable one for both of them. 
Everybody was so kind to him. Mrs. Brownjag 
called frequently at the hotel to inquire after his 
sister’s health, Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller sent her 
flowers on two occasions, and the way Mrs. Salt- 
earth asked after her fairly brought tears to Mr. 
Willoughby’s eyes. He felt that he would be 
willing to be bedridden himself for the sake of 
winning such sympathy. 

If there had been no society in America, Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby might have realized his op- 
portunity by establishing it. As it was, he 
managed to make his existence known to people 
who stood high in it, and that in a way they could 
not very well ignore. He had succeeded in gain- 
ing admittance to the most select circles, which al- 
lowed him the privilege of being patronized by the 
nicest people. He met the Brownjags, and the 
Saltearths, and Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller asked him 
to call. He was dined by Mrs. Nonesuch, whom 
he could claim as a cousin on his mother’s side, and 
he even made his best bow in the drawing-room 
of that patroness of fashion and privilege, Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones herself. After this it seemed to 
Mr. Willoughby that there were no higher heights 
to which he might aspire. 

On her own confession, Emily Van Hurdle was 


SAINT MAMMON 


1 1 


just pining to behold Madge again. The two had 
not met since they parted the year before at Miss 
Withermaid’s. However, she was able to restrain 
her feelings up to the moment the train arrived, 
but beyond that point decorum was intolerable. 
Before Mr. Willoughby had fairly grasped the 
situation she uttered a shriek, and running forward, 
threw herself into Madge’s arms and began kissing 
her in a way that would have been censurable, ex- 
cept that they were misses in their teens, and had 
been so intimate at boarding-school. If Mr. Will- 
oughby was a little startled by this display of emo- 
tionalism, he betrayed no sign of it. He had the 
most intense respect for Mrs. Van Hurdle, and 
could not very well criticise anything her daughter 
chose to do. If it had been any one else that met 
his niece in this fashion, he might have felt the 
impropriety of it. But everybody knew that Mrs. 
Van Hurdle’s countenance only shines on those 
who have high hopes in society. 

Mr. Willoughby was forgotten in the excitement 
of this meeting, and he availed himself of the 
opportunity to study Madge from the distance, 
and note how far her sudden metamorphosis had 
affected her appearance. 

Yes, she had changed for the better, he was 
forced to own. She had grown more dignified, 
and those dark eyes of hers, at which he had been 
half afraid to glance at times, were not so fiery. 
Her father had those same eyes, and the memory 
they recalled to Mr. Willoughby was not altogether 


12 


SAINT MAMMON 


a pleasant one. Now that he came to remark it 
she was not bad-looking, either. In fact, he would 
be willing to admit his niece was a very pretty 
woman; that is, of course, provided Mrs. Van 
Hurdle would say so to everybody, and if Mrs. 
Bangup, and above all, Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, 
would endorse her statement. 

During the drive homeward Mr. Willoughby 
sat in a corner of the carriage, and gave himself 
up to a kind of reverie. He looked moody enough, 
and probably he was thinking about the past and 
the mystery of his niece’s birth and parentage. 
It was unknown even to her, and the one person 
who shared the secret with Mr. Willoughby would 
not be likely to reveal it. 

Her father had been a wild young blade, and 
had brought sorrow and shame on his family by 
his recklessness. He had not even been married 
to her mother, until Mr. Willoughby made him 
do so on his deathbed. He then settled an in- 
come on the woman that had been the means of 
establishing her in the world as a respectable 
widow, and it eventually enabled her to marry 
again, and make a brilliant match at that. She 
pleaded that poverty had driven her to the first 
false step, and he was glad to put the same tempta- 
tion away from her. He only accepted the care 
of her daughter because he got the impression that 
the mother was high-spirited, and did not care to 
have a reminder of her past. He was anxious that 
she have no further cause for reproach against his 


SAINT MAMMON 


13 


family, and it had comforted him not a little after- 
wards to be able to reflect that he had made this 
woman respect a name, which otherwise she might 
learn to detest. Thus he did penance for his 
brother’s sin. 

But he had loved him with all his faults, and 
the memory of them was a cross to him even now. 
Sometimes as he looked at the child he used to 
wince under her glances, because they were so much 
like her father’s. He always fancied he saw some- 
thing in her to call back memories that were only 
regret. Could it be that she was left to him as a 
punishment for his pride? Suppose she were to 
grow up to exact some penalty for the wrong that 
had been her mother’s undoing? 

Under these gloomy reflections he had learned 
to fear her, and at times his manner towards her 
had been cold and repelling. What could he hope 
for from this waif, who was born of recklessness, 
and defiance of the laws of society? His only 
hope was his unswerving faith in the family breed- 
ing. To be sure, it had not proved itself in the 
case of her own father, but there are exceptions to 
every rule. Perhaps in the daughter the Willough- 
by instinct would triumph over her vicious heredity. 
The Willoughbys had always been a proud race, 
and were of aristocratic lineage. 

Madge did not pay the least attention to her 
uncle until the carriage stopped in front of the 
house, so taken up was she with her schoolgirl 
friend. The two sat purring and fondling each 


14 


SAINT MAMMON 


other like a couple of lovers, and it was amusing 
to listen to their artless prattle. When, however, 
he assisted her from the carriage, in sudden con- 
trition she fell on his neck and kissed him, as she 
had never done in her life. 

Mr. Willoughby blushed. He actually blushed 
like a girl, standing there on the curb, with the gas- 
light falling full upon him. 


CHAPTER II 


A man of the world, even though he be a stickler 
for all the culture and refinement that are to be 
had this side of snobbery, is not apt to view life 
from the standpoint of some optimists. He may 
have discovered that this thing we call civilization, 
and are wont to plume ourselves upon, is only gilded 
on the outside with our vaunted progress, but within 
it is full of decayed barbarisms. Even in this skep- 
tical age the world still clings to a few fables, that 
it will not repudiate in spite of argument. There 
are a great many falsehoods that manage to mas- 
querade as truths, and it would be the height of 
folly to proclaim their real character. When, too, 
it comes to morals, who shall say whether some of 
the things men call virtues will pass current in 
heaven? A practical philosopher once gave it as 
his deliberate opinion, if the devil would only 
write his decalogue, all the saints would be accusing 
him of plagiarism. 

Life, says the modern sage, is a condition that 
certain forms of matter are forced to undergo. 
Small wonder, then, if we are constantly rebelling 
against our environment. Small wonder, if we do 
not always realize our opportunities. Our fathers 
1 5 


1 6 


SAINT MAMMON 


made hero tragedy out of history. Are we making 
comedy out of it? Already in this free America 
we have discovered that we cannot live up to cer- 
tain fine theories about equality that they pro- 
claimed, and in particular, class prejudice is too 
much for us. Some good citizens clamor for a 
little privilege, and you may trust our fierce democ- 
racy to be setting up counterfeits of nobility. Of 
course we are not proud, we simple-minded repub- 
licans, and of course there should be no distinctions 
of rank among us. Nevertheless, as the result of 
our political dogmas, we have become the most 
hypocritical aristocrats on the face of the earth. 
We bow down to the shadow of a title, and then 
deny its substance. 

Therefore, it is not to be wondered at that an 
American gentleman of Mr. Roosevelt Willough- 
by’s polished elegance should believe history began 
with one of his own ancestors. He was born to 
notions that stood for a kind of heredity, and this 
was one of them. As he never permitted anybody 
to question these, he had come to regard them as 
infallible, and accepted them very much as he 
did the fact he was a Willoughby — thankfully, 
gratefully — and never thought of exchanging them 
for any others. Nay, more, he would not be afraid 
to stand up before the world and proclaim these 
opinions, particularly as he had reason to know that 
such authorities as Mrs. Bangup and Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones believed in this sort of prejudice. 

There was nothing he dreaded so much as vul- 


SAINT MAMMON 


i7 

garity, and perhaps he was over-sensitive about this 
at times. His conceptions of heaven itself were 
very aristocratic. Ill-bred persons were to be ex- 
cluded from it, or at least they were not to be 
admitted there, until they had passed through some 
spirit-elevating purgatory. Just fancy common* 
looking angels ! 

Here again family instinct was simply asserting 
itself in his character. The Willoughbys were 
nothing if they were not respectable, and they pre- 
ferred obscurity as a family, provided it stood for 
respectability. As far back as one would care to 
go in their past, the Willoughbys were very re- 
spectable nobodies, and they cared nothing for 
greatness, if it had to come at the expense of repu- 
tation. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby was a pleasant 
enough man to meet, but a hard one to know in- 
timately. He possessed an affable manner, but it 
was the kind that repels every approach towards fa- 
miliarity. Let no one censure him if he chose to 
believe that the most important date in American 
history was the day the first Willoughby landed on 
this continent — more so than the one on which 
Columbus discovered it, or that famous Fourth 
of July, when the Declaration of Independence 
was signed. 

Furthermore, the reader will be kind enough to 
remember that he was good to his family when 
the members of it went wrong, as he proved in the 
case of his own brother. We have seen how he 


SAINTMAMMONi 


i a 

stood father to his niece, when she was left an or- 
phan in the world; and to his sister, who was an 
invalid, he was very indulgent. Then there was 
another sister, who tried his patience more than 
these ; but to her also he remained loyal, and he did 
his duty by her, in so far as she permitted him. 

It must be confessed that this sister was as differ- 
ent from Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby as daylight is 
from darkness; her peculiarities are only to be ac- 
counted for on the score of social degeneration. 
In proof of this it is only necessary to state that 
instead of caring for society, she was constantly 
making war upon it. Fortunately she had mar- 
ried, so that the two were able to live apart, and the 
intimacy that existed between them now was of the 
most formal kind. Mr. Willoughby always called 
on her whenever he went to town, very much as 
he would have done on some acquaintance he had 
met only recently. However, this coolness was not 
his fault; for his sister, Mrs. Wadham Adams by 
name, made these visits as disagreeable as possible. 
Mr. Willoughby had learned from bitter experience 
that it was useless to try to placate her, and per- 
haps he only went to see her in the hope, that by 
so doing, he might be able to shield himself against 
her malevolence. She not only criticised the way 
he treated their invalid sister, but she insisted on 
telling him stories about other invalids, who were 
sure to be the kind of people Mr. Willoughby did 
not care to know. In fact, they were just such 
persons as he could not know and keep the friend- 


SAINT MAMMON 


19 

ship of Mrs. Bangup, and consequently he did not 
wish to hear anything about them. Furthermore, 
she would ask after parties in Heathdale whom her 
brother was particular to avoid, and would send 
them messages by him, that he would never think 
of delivering, as she knew very well. On the 
whole his regard for her as a Willoughby and his 
own sister was put to a severe test. 

There is an inartistic way of taking poverty that 
makes it appear simply hideous, and there is a 
vulgar way of being rich that renders wealth very 
offensive. Now, Mrs. Wadham Adams made 
charity disagreeable to a number of very respectable 
people. 

In spite of her self-sacrifice, in spite of her ap- 
parent sympathy for the unfortunate, she was sure 
to have a sting in reserve for somebody. She had 
been known to go to the pastor of her church with 
a pitiful tale about a dressmaker in reduced cir- 
cumstances, and after the unsuspecting divine recom- 
mended her to several ladies of his flock, she turned 
out to be a creature with whom Mrs. Uppercrust- 
Miller’s son had been implicated in a scandal. If 
any family of position had secrets of a compro- 
mising nature it would fain hide from the public 
eye, Mrs. Wadham Adams would find them out, 
and the way she would spring them on the friends 
of these parties was startling, to say the least. 
When that awful divorce case of Isgood versus 
Isgood was occupying the attention of the news- 
papers, and many society people were putting on 


20 


SAINT MAMMON 


sackcloth and ashes, Mrs. Wadham Adams proved 
herself a better medium for collecting malicious 
stories than the reporters themselves. 

It is a further proof of the superior virtues of 
this most excellent woman that she kept her hus- 
band in subjection to her. Mr. Wadham Adams 
was a little man of fierce aspect and ungovernable 
temper. Experience had taught him that the only 
hope he had against his wife was by being per- 
petually in a state of rage, so that now she could 
not order him to come to dinner, without he ex- 
ploded like a keg of gunpowder. She had forced 
him to quarrel with his own family, and had turned 
all his former friends against him. People spoke 
of him as Mrs. Wadham Adams’ husband, and 
everybody treated him with the utmost condescen- 
sion. 

Thus we perceive how it is possible for a woman, 
of fine character and irreproachable morals, to make 
herself feared by the exercise of those very virtues 
we have been taught to extol. 

Mr. Willoughby felt that he had enough en- 
gagements to take up all his time during the brief 
stay he expected to make in town, until Madge 
returned to school. Mrs. Humphrey Provost had 
appealed to him about her affairs. She was al- 
ways doing this. She and Mr. Willoughby were 
old friends, and she relied on him to be her con- 
fidant in matters of some delicacy. He had 
planned now to give up several days to her without 
letting Madge know anything about it. There 


SAINT MAMMON 


21 


was a tie between him and this strange woman that 
puzzled many people. Nevertheless, busy as he 
would be, he did not forget his duty to his married 
sister. 

“Of course you will call on your aunt, Mrs. 
Wadham Adams?” he remarked to Madge. 

He had been left alone with his niece in Mrs. 
Van Hurdle’s drawing-room the morning after her 
arrival. 

Madge frowned for an instant. 

“I suppose I must!” was her answer. 

Right here it may be well to state that there was 
no love lost between Madge and this relative. 

His niece’s manner of answering was not lost 
on her uncle, and he felt called upon to comment 
on it. 

“Your aunt has always been kind to you, I am 
sure,” he said. 

“Oh, I will go as a duty and not as a pleasure, 
so please don’t say any more about it.” 

Mr. Willoughby gazed out of the window for a 
moment at the hurrying throng on the street. 
When he spoke again it was half absently. 

“You will find as you grow older it does not do 
to cherish grudges against people.” 

Madge ignored this bit of moralizing. Her 
thoughts may have been elsewhere while her uncle 
was delivering it. Emily Van Hurdle was getting 
up some theatricals, and Madge was to take part 
in them. The play was to be “The Mistletoe 
Bough,” with Madge as the bride. She had acted 


•22 


SAINT MAMMON 


this role at Miss Withermaid’s, and was considered 
a star in it. She might have been thinking about 
the dress she would wear on this occasion. 

“I have sent word we shall call this afternoon,” 
her uncle said again. 

Madge sighed in spite of herself. 

“As you will, Uncle Roosevelt ! Only don’t ac- 
cept an invitation to dinner, I beg of you. I have 
such a surprise in store for Emily, and I can’t be 
disappointed now.” 

Mr. Willoughby knew what that surprise was, 
and promised to obey the injunction. 

Madge’s aversion for her aunt was one of the 
impressions of childhood, which she had not been 
able to outgrow. When she was a little girl Mrs. 
Wadham Adams had invited her to her house and 
deemed it her duty to give her some advice, that 
made her very miserable. She told her about the 
hapless lot of orphans, with whom she had become 
acquainted in the course of her charitable work, 
and proposed that Madge learn a trade, with a view 
of making herself independent. 

It was not so much the thought of having to 
earn her own bread that depressed the child. It 
was the sense that she was alone in the world. 
Madge went home in a flood of tears and poured 
out her woes to Aunt Kate, almost causing the 
patient invalid to become angry. Mr. Willoughby 
was furious when he heard of it. He took pains 
to call on Mrs. Wadham Adams at once, and he 
[found opportunity to insinuate that he had adopted 


SAINT MAMMON 


23 

Madge, and was as fond of her as he would be of 
a daughter of his own. She would inherit all his 
property, and he had already settled an income on 
her, which he considered belonged to her by right 
of his brother. Accordingly, all plans relating to 
her future were to be left with him. 

If Mrs. Wadham Adams had acted on this hint, 
and had tried to win the child’s affection even now, 
Madge might have outgrown the dislike that she 
formed for her. But it was a maxim of this ex- 
cellent female that she had a duty to perform by 
everybody she knew, and. in this case she kept her 
niece informed about the helpless lot of orphans, 
until the girl fast growing into womanhood felt a 
repugnance at the very sight of her. 

Therefore it was that Madge kept recalling 
things of a disagreeable nature when she found her- 
self sitting in Mrs. Wadham Adams’ parlor that 
afternoon, listening to reports of her charitable 
work, and trying to ignore the moral this most 
exemplary woman was drawing from it. 

That same hopeless feeling came back to her, as 
when a child she hearkened tearfully while her 
aunt planned for her future, and succeeded in 
making her utterly wretched. A mere schoolgirl 
on a brief vacation visit to town may be excused if 
she looks at things from an impressionalist’s stand- 
point, and Madge was an impressionalist by tem- 
perament. 

The sight of the place stifled her. The stiff- 
looking furniture set in severe upholstering made 


24 


SAINT MAMMON 


her anxious to fly the spot, and the pictures on the 
walls only excited a shudder, because they were so 
grewsome. In one of them Abraham was sacri- 
ficing Isaac, in another Hagar was dying in the 
Wilderness, in a third a martyr was being led to 
execution, and outraged virtue was suffering in the 
rest. There was a repelling air about the very 
window curtains, and the bric-a-brac looked as if 
it had been inherited from an undertaker. 

It appeared that her aunt was seeking to rescue 
from perdition a profligate young man in the last 
stages of dissipation, who was cousin to Mrs. 
Wholepush, and had been disowned by his family 
on account of his immoral conduct. Of course she 
had interested herself in him out of pity; never- 
theless she took care to acquaint herself with all 
the unpleasant details of his history, and was ready 
to report them to as many of Mrs. Wholepush’s 
friends as she could meet. Mr. Willoughby was 
proud to be considered one of these, and he did not 
relish her references to this aristocratic woman, who 
was a shining light of society. 

In this connection it is pertinent also that Mrs. 
Wadham Adams paraded this young man’s affairs 
before others of Mrs. Wholepush’s friends, so that 
she caused them some uneasiness for a time, as most 
of her efforts in this line always did. One day, 
however, it dawned upon her that he could no 
longer be used to make people feel uncomfortable, 
and then it was amazing how quickly she dropped 
him. 


SAINT MAMMON 


2 5j 

Then there was another party in Mrs. Wadham 
Adams’ drawing-room, whom it seemed to her 
brother such tales interested more than they need. 
This was no other than Mrs. Tripp of Heathdale, 
whom he had seen a dozen times in his life, and 
as often ignored. She was a very ordinary sort of 
a woman, something in the new-rich line, and was 
reported to have interested herself in Mrs. Wad- 
ham Adams’ charities for the reason that every 
social opportunity was closed against her. There 
was something in the way Mr. Willoughby greeted 
her on being introduced that betrayed the state of 
his feelings. Just fancy a man who aspired to the 
friendship of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, caring for such 
a person ! The idea was ridiculous, and anybody 
but Mrs. Wadham Adams would appreciate it. 

His sister seemed determined to make it as dis- 
agreeable as possible for him this afternoon. She 
told for the third time a story relating to their 
maternal great-grandmother, the only point of 
which was to bring out the fact that this ancestress 
had been the daughter of a peddler. 

Mr. Willoughby took pains to correct her on this 
head, however. The father of the relative in ques- 
tion was a farmer, who sold his produce in the 
markets — a circumstance that he himself had almost 
forgotten, and which in those primitive days went 
for nothing. 

On the whole, it was a great relief to all parties 
when this most formal of visits came to an end. 
From the way Mr. Willoughby bowed himself out 


SAINT MAMMON 


126 

of that house, it was evident that he had not ap- 
proved much that was said within it. 

Madge did not recover from her depression until 
she found herself in the carriage and many blocks 
away from the neighborhood in which her aunt 
chose to reside. It was not a nice quarter of the 
town anyhow, and none but eccentric people would 
care to live there. But Mrs. Wadham Adams 
rather plumed herself on the fact that she remained 
in the locality after everybody of consequence had 
moved away from it. She also prided herself on 
her old-fashioned ways. A great many disagree- 
able persons have the same weakness, and they 
can make a virtue of doing things nobody likes, and 
acting in opposition to society in general. 

But they had another errand to perform that 
afternoon which was more to Madge’s fancy, and 
she felt she had earned the right to enjoy herself 
now. Lillian Thurston was coming to town, and 
she had planned with her help to give Emily Van 
Hurdle a surprise. Even Mr. Willoughby be- 
came interested in this schoolgirl plot, and was 
almost as excited as the chief conspirators them- 
selves. As it turned out, the scheme worked ad- 
mirably. 

Emily Van Hurdle had stationed herself at a 
window to watch for the return of the carriage, 
and on its appearance she flew down to the hall- 
way. When now she beheld not only Madge, but 
Lillian also standing on the threshold, her feelings 
were too much for her. She gave a groan, re- 


SAINT MAMMON 


27 


treated into the house, and then, rushing forward, 
flung her arms impulsively around Lillian’s neck. 
We will drop a veil over the scene that followed, 
and if, dear reader, you incline to laugh at it, we 
beg to say you have never been to Miss Wither- 
maid’s Academy. 

What a pleasant party it was that sat down to 
dinner in the Van Hurdle household that evening! 
The fresh young faces had a most pleasing effect 
on the elders, and the way they chatted and laughed 
put everybody in a good humor. Mr. Willoughby 
was charmed with Lillian Thurston, for like Madge 
she too had improved at school. Her mother was 
his neighbor at Heathdale, and a woman whose 
friendship he valued. Lillian and Madge were 
of the same age, and had been brought up like 
sisters, so Mr. Willoughby felt an almost paternal 
interest in her now. Her manner was proud, but 
not repelling, and any one could see at a glance 
that she was a girl of the highest ideals and as- 
pirations. “Lillian of the Haughty Face,” she 
was called at school. 


CHAPTER III 


But fate had decreed that Mr. Willoughby 
should have other things to think about now, be- 
sides the pleasures that appeal to schoolgirls, or 
the plans he had formed to ingratiate himself with 
certain persons prominent in society. Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost had sent him word that she needed 
him, and he felt sure she would monopolize his 
time while he remained in town. It is proof of 
his good nature that he did not murmur at the 
burdens he would be called upon to bear on her 
account. 

Whenever Mrs. Humphrey Provost had trouble, 
or things got on her nerves, she sent for Mr. Will- 
oughby to advise or cheer her, as the case required. 
He possessed her confidence, as nobody else did, 
and, it must be confessed, he paid a high price for 
the privilege. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost might have been the 
original of the first woman, who rebelled against 
the monotony of Eden. If she had done so she 
would have been eager to lay the blame of her own 
discontent on a serpent, or any old thing that came 
handy. Her most zealous champions had never 
claimed that she was given to acknowledging her 
own mistakes. 


28 


SAINT MAMMON 


29 


But if the reader is inclined to wonder why Mr. 
Willoughby was willing to make himself her pliant 
tool, let it suffice that Mrs. Humphrey Provost 
was a woman of social consequence. He had 
reason to know that she had the approval of Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones, and he more than suspected that 
everything he was called upon to do on her account 
was duly reported to very nice people, and won him 
some praise in consequence. If any excuse is 
needed to account for a man ignoring his own com- 
fort to serve a friend, what higher one could be 
offered than this? 

If, too, he went about this business in a mys- 
terious fashion, taking care that his niece should 
not know anything he was driving at, it was be- 
cause Mrs. Humphrey Provost herself dealt in 
mysteries. In fact, she was a mystery, and some 
malicious persons went so far as to say that she was 
an adventuress in the bargain. They described 
her as a sort of society burglar, that is to say, a 
person who had broken into society without regard 
for the barriers it sets up for its own protection. 

The reader may take our word for it, however, 
that her only crime consisted in the fact that she 
had married a man for his wealth and position. 
His sister had taken a great dislike to her, and was 
constantly stirring up people against her. Added 
to this, her marriage had turned out unhappily. 
Her husband was very dissipated, and there were 
frequent quarrels between them. However, it does 
not follow on this account that her sister-in-law, 


30 


SAINT MAMMON 


Mrs. Saltearth, should wage war upon her so 
mercilessly. Many respectable people have married 
for the same reason, and the world thinks well of 
them. Even to those who enter into it with the 
highest motives, matrimony proves a disappoint- 
ment. Once upon a time a pious man prayed for 
a wife, and according to his own confession the 
devil answered the prayer and sent him a vixen. 

Prudence declared that her sister-in-law hated 
her for other reasons, and perhaps she was right. 

Although he was a man above intrigue himself, 
Mr. Willoughby allowed himself to be drawn into 
things on this woman’s account that he would not 
get implicated in otherwise. Whatever the motive 
might be that led him to make himself her tool, 
he hastened to obey her summons the next day after 
his niece’s arrival, when he had satisfied himself 
that Madge could be left with the friends who had 
taken charge of her until she returned to school. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost had evidently been 
looking forward to his visit, and her eagerness 
was not lost upon him. She greeted him so warm- 
ly that he felt sure she had something for him to 
do. Neither did she keep him long in suspense 
about the business in hand. Mrs. Saltearth was 
making trouble, it seemed, and the situation was 
becoming intolerable. Prudence was very frank 
in explaining things. She knew her husband would 
let her alone so long as she did not bother him. He 
had his clubs and his pleasures. These latter were 
not of the highest order, it must be confessed. Only 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i 

recently they had patched up a truce under which 
they agreed to tolerate each other, and she was 
looking forward to a pleasant winter in town. But 
Mrs. Saltearth was jealous of her popularity in 
society, and had forced her husband to quarrel 
with her again. Her sister-in-law did her the in- 
justice to assume that Prudence would not be re- 
ceived at all, except for the family name. That 
was simply ridiculous. The position Prudence held 
had been won by her own cleverness. Even Mr. 
Willoughby was willing to admit this. 

Now Prudence had formed a plan to circumvent 
Mrs. Saltearth if she would not listen to reason. 
As Mr. Willoughby was quick to perceive, its 
general detail would keep him busy, and would 
cause her as little inconvenience as possible. Trust 
Prudence to look out for herself at all times. But 
then it would bring Mr. Willoughby into touch 
with very nice people, so he felt he ought not pro- 
test. He knew the woman he had to deal with 
now. She could not exist without excitement all 
the time, and if she conceded anything to her hus- 
band’s family it would be for the sake of enjoying 
herself without interference from anybody. 

“If that sister-in-law of mine would only let us 
alone we would be able to hate each other without 
annoyance to either of us,” Prudence said, wearily. 
“She makes him fight me, when I have got things 
arranged beautifully.” 

Mr. Willoughby allowed her to work off her 
irritation in her own fashion. Experience had 


32 SAINT MAMMON 

taught him that this was the only plan to follow in 
her case. 

“Why did I marry him?” Prudence burst out 
again. “Because I needed friends; because he had 
wealth and position to offer me. I am reminded 
of this fact enough, I am sure. What if my mar- 
riage did establish me in society? I can hold my 
position by my own efforts now. What right has 
his family to try to turn people against me ? I can 
get along without them. Let them beware! If 
they tempt me too far I will speak out, so that they 
will rue the day they drove me to some desperate 
step.” 

“You have a hard life of it,” Mr. Willoughby 
found voice to say. 

“Hard! The little beast insults me all the time. 
He abuses me to his mistresses. He — oh, well! 
I must be calm ! Let us talk about our plans. I 
shall go south after Christmas. Until I do go, I 
must be let alone.” 

“You have promised Mrs. Saltearth you will be 
reasonable,” Mr. Willoughby interposed. 

“So I shall, but she must be careful how she con- 
ducts herself towards me. She must stop whis- 
pering tales about me, and trying to prejudice her 
friends against me. Her friends are powerful, and 
I don’t seek their enmity. I shall go to Florida 
after Christmas, and later I shall sail for Europe. 
I shall avoid Newport. What more? I have 
promised to keep out of her way hereafter. But 
she must not say such mean things about me. I 


SAINT MAMMON 


33 

have your consent to take Madge abroad in the 
spring, I believe ?” 

“Certainly,” Mr. Willoughby hastened to say. 

“Very well, then. I will be satisfied. I shall 
keep out of my husband’s way and out of his sister’s 
also. But they must not fight me too openly. I 
am dangerous when I am roused. Let them be- 
ware !” 

Mr. Willoughby kept silent. 

“The idea of their saying I broke the truce, be- 
cause I came to New York when they happened to 
be here also. Am I a prisoner on parole because 
I married the little beast? I came to New York 
because I wished to come here. My affairs drew 
me here at this time. I shall not leave until they 
are settled. I am acting my part very well in- 
deed. I am living in the same house with the 
man I hate, and who hates me. I keep out of his 
way, I am sure. I only wish he would take pains 
to avoid me always. Mr. Humphrey Provost has 
only one passion above his appetites, and that is 
hatred for his wife.” 

“I am sure you are making the best of a hard 
situation,” Mr. Willoughby said. 

“Indeed I am ! Very few women would endure 
what I endure. I fail to see why my husband’s 
family should fight me as they do. I dare them to 
lay their finger on one act of mine that compromises 
my position. It is they who are unreasonable.” 

“I believe you,” Mr. Willoughby said. “I will 
be your champion now.” 


34 


SAINT MAMMON 


Prudence smiled at him. 

“I thank you for that. With you on my side I 
shall feel I am in the right.” 

“You can always depend on me,” Mr. Willough- 
by said. “You ought to know that I have learned 
to feel an admiration for the way you bear your 
troubles.” 

“Do you indeed?” 

“I most certainly do. I am not afraid to show 
my feelings at all times.” 

Prudence looked up at him quickly. 

“I did not know you were so fond of me,” she 
said. 

“I always admired you very much,” Mr. Will- 
oughby answered, with one of his most courteous 
bows. 

“I am grateful for that; I thank you. You are 
the only person in the world I respect and admire. 
If I could love with the best that is in me, I believe 
I could love you with all my soul. But you know 
my waywardness. I am a frivolous, shallow- 
hearted woman. If I could have listened to you 
once upon a time — if I could have placed myself 

in your powers so as to feel your influence 

But what is the use? What must be, must be !” 

She stood in front of him now with a smile upon 
her face. She was a woman in all her loveliness, 
with a witchery in her eyes that caused even this 
ascetic to feel a momentary thrill. Again Mr. 
Willoughby bowed after the fashion of an old-time 


SAINT MAMMON 


35 

cavalier. Mrs. Humphrey Provost held out her 
hand. He raised it to his lips. 

“Always remember I am your champion,” he 
said. 

“More than my champion! You are my true 
knight, without fear and without reproach !” 

Hereupon, Mr. Willoughby departed on his 
errand. 

Of course he was forced to call on Mrs. Salt- 
earth, and hear her side of the story. Soon, too, 
he was drawn into a family quarrel that was being 
waged with great bitterness, and he had to make 
many suggestions to both parties, in order to patch 
up the semblance of a peace between them. This 
took time, but it was worth the effort. He carried 
his point at last, and succeeded in arranging that 
Mrs. Humphrey Provost should remain in New 
York until after Christmas, without being sub- 
jected to any further annoyance from her husband’s 
family. Then she was to go South, and afterwards 
to Europe. She also renewed her pledge to keep 
away from Newport in any case. 

Mrs. Saltearth was very bitter against her sister- 
in-law. She declared that Mrs. Humphrey Pro- 
vost knew what her brother was when she married 
him, and his family had not approved of the match. 
They washed their hands of her now, and would 
not be bothered by her. She was an adventuress, 
and came from nowhere. This marriage had given 
her a position in society, which she could not have 
won in any other way. As to her quarrels with 


SAINT MAMMON 


36 

her husband, they were her own affair. If she ever 
dared to use Mrs. Saltearth’s name to help her 
socially there would be trouble. It had been agreed 
that Mrs. Humphrey Provost was to keep out of 
the way of her husband’s family, and here she was 
in New York again, going everywhere and seeking 
recognition from everybody. Let her go away as 
soon as possible, and stay away. ’All her husband’s 
relatives asked was that she let them alone, and 
never cross their path again. 

Mr. Willoughby flattered himself that he showed 
great tact in the way he patched up this quarrel for 
the time being. He also managed to advance his 
own interests socially ere he had settled it. Before 
long Mrs. Saltearth began to show an interest in 
him that could not fail to gratify his pride. She 
spoke of him feelingly to several very nice people, 
and he even had the satisfaction of learning that 
his praises had been sung in the presence of Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones herself. On the whole the affair 
was a source of gratification to him, and there was 
no telling what it might lead to later on. Trust 
him to make the most of any opportunity offered 
at this time. 


CHAPTER IV 


If anybody were to ask Mr. Willoughby who 
was the greatest personage in the United States, he 
would answer, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones. 

Perhaps now, he was not the only one that held 
to this opinion. Possibly, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones 
herself would endorse it. For she was a very re- 
markable woman in many respects, and had at- 
tained a certain kind of eminence as leader of an 
exclusive set that aims to make a profession of 
society. If this is not true greatness, Mr. Roose- 
velt Willoughby did not know what it is. 

For, behold, it has come to pass in this age of 
plutocracy, that society has risen to the dignity of 
a profession in America, to be taken up seriously, 
just as men do law or medicine. One must have 
talents to shine in it, and, indeed, there is call for 
positive genius in this field. In former times 
society belonged to almost anybody that was willing 
to pay attention to it ; but now its control has passed 
into the hands of a few, who are able to make it 
their life work. 

There are people, who for lack of something to 
do, are glad to take up with society, and devote all 
their energies to it. 


37 


38 


SAINT MAMMON 


Just how far Mrs. Snubbody-Jones was respon- 
sible for this state of things, those who have fol- 
lowed her career are able to judge. It must be 
confessed, however, that all her efforts had tended 
to give it a professional tone. Under her leader- 
ship society was a proper field for the over-rich to 
exploit their wealth and their tastes for the marvel- 
lous. 

Although Mr. Willoughby was only an amateur 
in this great science as yet, it was the height of his 
ambition to write “professionally fashionable” after 
his name. He wished to have it enrolled among 
the fortunate ones, to whom new people are sup- 
posed to address their prayers. Above all, he 
longed to acquire the friendship of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones, so that he might always count on her ap- 
proval. 

But to do this was a difficult matter. Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones had an aggravating way of letting 
people pass out of her memory, at the very moment 
when they thought themselves sure of their position. 
Some unfortunate beings had enjoyed the smiles 
of the elect for a time, and then as suddenly dis- 
appeared as if the earth had opened and swallowed 
them. It need not concern us to ask what became 
of them. Let it suffice that they passed out of 
the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones. 

To Mr. Willoughby’s way of thinking, this 
meant social annihilation. 

But at this point the writer begs to state that 
only those who can appreciate social prominence are 


SAINT MAMMON 


39 


able to grasp the full significance of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones’ favor. It is a question whether her position 
allowed her to have friends. She very graciously 
permitted herself to like a few people, but it did 
not follow that she was particularly fond of them. 
Her likes and dislikes may have been determined 
by her social obligations. 

There was nothing Mr. Willoughby dreaded 
more than the fear that he too might forfeit her 
esteem. What would it profit a man to win the 
whole world, and then pass out of memory of Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones? If now he did a little tuft hunt- 
ing, it was to save himself from a calamity so dire- 
ful. He was a very tactful man, and a past master 
of the art of flattery. Nevertheless, the danger he 
dreaded was a real one, as it is our painful duty to 
relate. 

He went out very early one morning, being en- 
gaged in the settlement of Mrs. Humphrey Pro- 
vost’s affairs. This business detained him longer 
than he expected, so that it was late before he could 
return to the hotel. Then something else hap- 
pened that afforded him an excuse for his absence. 
It was not a pleasant interruption, but it served 
the very desirable purpose of keeping Madge ig- 
norant of his other plans. His niece had come to 
the hotel, in the morning, and he had left a note 
for her, asking her to remain until he returned. 
Madge was glad to do so. It was a pleasure to 
be alone with her aunt at any time. She assumed 
that her uncle had gone out for a stroll to get a 


40 


SAINT MAMMON 


breath of air, as his custom was when in town. 
She had an engagement herself that afternoon, but 
she was not sorry of the chance to take lunch with 
the invalid. 

The hours slipped by, lunch time came and went, 
and still her uncle did not return. When three 
o’clock arrived Madge grew restless. What could 
have detained him like this? She did not dare 
question her aunt about any plan that might have 
called him away, as that would only excite her. It 
was four o’clock when Mr. Willoughby got back 
to the hotel, and she had to meet her friends at five 
sharp. She had made up her mind to demand an 
explanation for this unaccountable absence, when 
Mr. Willoughby volunteered the information that 
he had been attending a funeral. 

“A funeral!” cried Madge. “Who has died 
lately that we know?” 

Mr. Willoughby looked a little sheepish and ad- 
mitted that this funeral had not been a society af- 
fair. That is to say, the deceased did not belong 
to the upper set. But his sister, Mrs. Wadham 
Adams, called for him just as he was going out 
for a morning stroll, and informed him of the death 
of a connection of the family, whom he had never 
heard of before, much less seen. She then re- 
quested him to accompany her to the obsequies, 
which she was to attend in the role of chief 
mourner, and he had felt forced to do so. 

His sister had dressed in the deepest black, and 
shed copious tears, as if the deceased were a bosom 


SAINT MAMMON 


4i 


friend of hers; whereas she had beheld him but 
once in the flesh. She had also begun to form 
plans for the relief of the afflicted family, who were 
in very humble circumstances. She tried to in- 
terest her brother in these, but Mr. Willoughby 
had an experience with her charitable work once 
that caused him to come near passing out of the 
memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, and he was not 
to be trapped again. 

A man less good-natured than Mr. Willoughby 
would have been furious at all this. To do the 
family justice, these people were only distantly 
connected with an obscure branch of it, that the 
Willoughbys proper had long since disowned. He 
had every reason to suspect, too, that Mrs. Wad- 
ham Adams had only taken up with them for 
malicious reasons. 

Madge, however, took the alarm at once. She 
begged her uncle to be on his guard now against 
her aunt’s wiles. She felt sure there was some 
mischief in the wind that might be his undoing. 
Mr. Willoughby needed no such warning. He 
knew too well that Mrs. Wadham Adams studied 
to belittle him in the eyes of society, and if she 
could have had her way he would have passed out 
of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones long ago. 
He had always tried to show her by his manner 
toward her that he did not approve of her ideas, 
but of course his friends did not know the position 
in which he was placed, and they might not listen 
to his excuses. For his part, Mr. Willoughby 


SAINT MAMMON 


4 * 

could not conceive how Mrs. Wadham Adams 
could have the face to take issue with him now. 
Bless my soul, his position in society was not se- 
cure yet! He was sure of Mrs. Bangup, and he 
was trying his best to make the most of his op- 
portunities. For his sister to make trouble at this 
point would be like flying in the face of providence. 
There are a few things in this world that do not 
call for argument, but are to be accepted without 
question, and social position is one of them. Mr. 
iWilloughby had no words to express his horror 
of all persons that would belittle it. Let them 
be anathema! Yea, let them pass out of the 
memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones ! 

But again Madge warned him to be on his 
guard. She knew her aunt only too well, and 
declared that Mrs. Wadham Adams would make a 
supreme effort to humiliate him now, and the 
sequel proved she was right. 

The very next afternoon the blow fell, and woe- 
ful was the effect of it. 

Mr. Willoughby was taking his invalid sister 
out for a drive, Mrs. Bangup having placed her 
carriage at his disposal. The weather was fine, 
almost springlike, and it chanced many of his ac- 
quaintances were out on the Avenue to recognize 
him and give him caste. A whirl of fashion 
passed before his delighted vision, and the greet- 
ings he got satisfied him that society was not in- 
different to him. He bowed to the Humdums, 
the D’Elites, the Bontons, and he was permitted 


SAINT MAMMON 


43 


to bask in the smiles of such exalted personages as 
Mrs. Smartsett and Mrs. Wayinit. His manner 
was an indication of the standing of the different 
people he met now. A critical observer might 
have noticed that there was a great difference in 
the salutation he reserved for Mrs. Surething, and 
the one which he gave to Mrs. Muckerfellow. 

And, behold, that his cup of happiness might 
be full to overflowing, Mrs. Snubbody- Jones her- 
self appeared on the scene and recognized him 
publicly, so that everybody was forced to say: 
“Truly this person is of the elect.” It was a 
proud moment for Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby, and 
he had a right to feel that he was a pet of society 
at last. 

All at once, however, a plain vehicle hove in 
view, and in it was seated Mrs. Wadham Adams, 
with one of her newly discovered relatives. 

Mr. Willoughby went pale at the sight, the smile 
died out of his face, and he dropped back in his 
seat as if he had been shot. 

To make matters worse, Mrs. Hotstuff’s car- 
riage happened to be passing at the moment, and he 
was about to make one of his most elegant bows. 

It was like Mrs. Wadham Adams to show up 
while he was posing as a lion, and spoil everything ! 
It was mere spite in her anyhow ! 

Words would fail to do justice to Mr. Willough- 
by’s feelings, even though the writer were able to 
tune his song to the Lamentations of the Prophet 
Jeremiah. 


44 


SAINT MAMMON 


His sister had beaten him again, and in his mor- 
tification he determined to fly the town as soon 
as possible, because if this sort of thing went on, 
he was in danger of passing out of the memory of 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones. 


CHAPTER V 


But before we take leave of him, even for a 
brief period, we must not forget to mention the 
sensation Madge made in her character of the 
bride in “The Mistletoe Bough.” The occasion 
for presenting her in this role was one of those 
affairs that took place in New York when the “old 
families” got together. Of course, the play itself 
was a mere schoolgirl effort, but, from the moment 
Madge appeared until the curtain fell, everybody 
was enthusiastic over her acting. Mr. Willoughby, 
in particular, was surprised. Bless my soul, he did 
not dream it was in the child! He hastened to 
congratulate her before the guests. He wished 
to let all these people see how much he appreciated 
her, and he could not be indifferent to the interest 
so many great folk were taking in her now. 

The dress she wore set off a shapely figure, and 
in the dance scene none were so graceful as she. 
Every eye seemed to follow her and watch her 
movements. She looked stunning as the bride, and 
at the wedding reception her easy manners made 
her the centre of attraction. 

But it was when she entered the garret to hide 
in the old trunk that her acting reached a climax. 


45 


SAINT MAMMON 


46 

As she stood for a moment irresolute, listening to 
the voices of those hunting for her, and then placed 
one foot in the fatal chest, her pose was worthy 
of a tragedy queen. 

Now the lights go down, the lid of the trunk 
slowly descends on the unfortunate girl, and as the 
curtain falls the click of the lock is heard. A 
shudder runs through the audience, and some 
women weep. 

“Oh, the Mistletoe Bough! 

Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!” 

At the conclusion of the piece Madge was called 
before the curtain and fairly idolized. 

Mr. Willoughby did not fail to note that the 
young men in particular seemed to be crazy over 
her; but then they belonged to such good families. 
Perhaps now, if he had known all that had been 
going on in this direction for the last few days, how 
Madge had suddenly grown conscious of her power 
to bring these unbearded youngsters to her feet, 
and how intense was the passion that consumed one 
of them on her account, he would have felt less 
easy about it. For the young man in question, 
Hamilton Bloodgood by name, was reported to 
be dangerous in more ways than one. Certain 
persons, eminently virtuous and respectable, de- 
clared he was dissipated, and they asserted this 
with such emphasis, that his own father had come 
to believe he was little better than a reprobate. 


SAINT MAMMON* 


47 

We all know how hard it is to go through life 
with a blasted reputation. Have we not been told 
that Richard III was not the villain one William 
Shakespeare pictured him? Nevertheless, he 
stands for the arch cutthroat of history, and in all 
probability will stand until the end of time. So, 
too, Hamilton Bloodgood, although nobody by 
comparison, had his detractors, but perhaps it would 
be charity to ignore them altogether. 

Strange, is it not, how many men and women 
take delight in pointing out the foibles of their 
fellow mortals ? They do not seem to care, either, 
whether they exaggerate these one bit. If now 
the recording angel should be minded to wipe out 
some scores that have been reported against their 
victims, doubtless these same scrupulous persons 
would take pains to recall the omission, and will be 
ready to file an objection against any mitigation 
of sentence, on the Judgment Day. 

Perhaps Hamilton Bloodgood had done some 
foolish things, like many other high-spirited youths; 
and perhaps he had wasted many opportunities, as 
young men will. About the time he was sent to 
college it used to be taught in certain institutions 
of higher learning that a man could not call him- 
self educated until he had experienced every known 
kind of evil well enough to recognize it at sight. 
Of course, there were not lacking youngsters will- 
ing to carry this idea to an extreme. 

It must be confessed that Hamilton Bloodgood 
took very kindly to this doctrine, and was seized 


SAINT MAMMON 


48 

with a desire to shine in circles where carousing 
was held in higher esteem than intellectual attain- 
ments. It is no exaggeration to say that the only 
taste he acquired from his university course, which 
could be called at all elevating, was a fancy for 
dogs. This clung to him for the rest of his life, 
and soon became a hobby with him. 

Nor is there any telling to what lengths of dis- 
sipation he might not have gone if his father had 
not suddenly ordered him home from the haunts 
of the bookworm and the football player, without 
consulting the faculty of the college about it. But 
there was no harm done in this last respect, as none 
of the professors entered protest against the act, 
nor sought to recall Hamilton to classic pursuits. 
Indeed, it was whispered that his name had been 
dropped from the university register long before, 
and as a course in dog-ology was not appreciated 
by the learned dons, they were probably glad to 
get rid of him. It is just possible, too, that certain 
wild rumors had reached the ears of the elder 
Bloodgood, and decided him to take a hand in the 
game without consulting anybody. Be that as it 
may, Hamilton showed up at his father’s house one 
day with as fine a pair of bull-pups as a fancier 
could wish to see, thereby demonstrating that he 
had not spent all his allowance in riotous living. 

But unfortunately for him, the elder Bloodgood 
refused to be impressed by this striking proof of 
his son’s devotion to a certain kind of culture. 
Probably he was too dense a man to appreciate 


SAINT MAMMON 


49 


dogs anyhow; for he kicked the pups down the 
back stairs without ceremony, and summoned his 
son to a conference in the library. It was in this 
same room that Hamilton had been caned once, 
and from his father’s manner now he expected no 
leniency. When the door had closed behind them 
a voice, very like the elder’s, might have been 
heard in loud upbraiding for upward of an hour, 
and at the end of this period Hamilton issued forth 
with a very sheepish countenance. His father had 
spared the rod out of respect for his years, but had 
assured him that unless he reformed he would turn 
him adrift to shift for himself. Hamilton was 
willing to admit that his sire had reason for making 
these unfatherly resolutions. 

But his mother was waiting to receive him when 
he came out of that awful presence. She went to 
him and kissed him effusively, just to show how 
much she felt for him in her motherly heart. If he 
wanted dogs, dogs he should have. They might 
wander all over the house, and he could have a rat 
pit in the cellar. 

We shall have occasion in the course of this 
history to emphasize the fact, which we now make 
patent, that if there ever was a mother who doted 
on an only son, Mrs. Stuyvesant Bloodgood was 
the one of all others. Not only was she blind to 
his faults, but it was part of her creed that he was 
a model for other young men, and anybody skeptical 
on this head was sure to hear from her. How she 
disliked an acquaintance who had written from his 


50 


SAINT MAMMON 


college town that Hamilton Bloodgood was a dis- 
grace to his family; and how she snubbed another, 
who warned her darling boys against him ! He 
was always the theme of her praises and the object 
of her fondest solicitude. If he was a little gay, 
it was owing to his good-natured courage. Then, 
too, she did not believe in these saintly boys. There 
were people who considered her daft on this sub- 
ject, and her own sister hastened to change the 
conversation whenever her boy’s name was intro- 
duced. 

On the other hand, Mr. Stuyvesant Bloodgood 
was more or less indifferent to his son’s welfare, 
unless, as in this case, something was going wrong 
with him. His life was regulated to the law of 
business and held religiously to the rule of the 
blessed Saint Mammon; and an indulgent rule it 
is for a man who venerates the sacred dollar mark. 
He believed he was doing his duty by his heir in 
making a fortune for him to inherit. Further than 
that, he owed him nothing. 

His wife knew what to expect from him well 
enough. She had discovered long ago that he 
had but one passion in life — the desire to make 
money. While she never questioned his love for 
her, she honestly believed that this love was a 
secondary consideration with him. The sacred 
dollar mark was the symbol of his religion. 

If he interfered in Hamilton’s affairs now it was 
merely an impulse. Soon he would be washing his 
hands of him again. In all the little tiffs that this 


SAINT MAMMON 


5i 


couple had about their son and the mother’s in- 
dulgence of him, she won, because her love for the 
boy was her greatest passion in life ; while his was 
love of gold and the acquiring of it. 


CHAPTER VI 


Glory be to thee, O Money ! 

But lest we condemn this man for being a Mam- 
mon worshipper, perhaps it would be well for us 
to search our own hearts and ask ourselves whether 
we are altogether free from this same avarice. 
The writer makes bold to say that there are a 
great many people in this land of extensive liberty 
who have nothing in their heads but the dollar 
mark, and some of them stand well in society, too. 
The American people no longer govern themselves. 
Money governs them. So at least the world is 
saying to-day, and it has gone out to all the ends 
of the earth that this great continent, once the home 
of the free, is only the land of the almighty dollar. 
From Puritan to Mammonite ! What an evolution 
is here! 

Alas for the ancient chivalry of our race ! Alas 
for its martyrs who have sacrificed their lives for 
humanity, and its heroes who have fought for hu- 
manity’s cause! Mammon hath formulated a 
creed that is sure to put the old-time virtues out of 
practice altogether, and we do not suspect the idol 
52 


SAINT MAMMON 


53 

we are serving until it turns out to be a devil, and 
robs us of our very souls. 

Was it for this our fathers settled in the wilder- 
ness; that their children should serve Mammon 
and him alone? Behold what a tyrant he has 
become to us, him whom we took for a deliverer! 
In his service we waste our strength, at his bidding 
we lose our hope of salvation. Mammon, like 
Moloch, delights in human sacrifice, the noblest, 
the choicest, at that. 

The Anglo-Saxons were once a race of world 
conquerors. To-day they are fast becoming a race 
of money worshippers. 

We are always boasting of our energy and parad- 
ing our progress while we sacrifice our ideals; but 
let us try to consider for a moment what our 
national greatness really is. Let us begin in Wall 
Street, where Mammon holds high carnival, and 
the moral that greed teaches is right before our 
eyes. Let us prepare also to take part in the per- 
petual adoration of the Almighty Dollar. 

Wall Street is a medley. Who shall judge it? 
It has its champions, and there are those who decry 
it as the source of everything that is dishonest and 
corruptible in finance. 

Money is king here, and it is more than king. 
It is god, and its worshippers bow down to it as 
the dispenser of all joys. Here are its shrines, 
here are its altars. Here, too, are its ministers 
serving before them, offering up the golden incense 
and proclaiming its omnipotence. Mammon hath 


54 


SAINT MAMMON 


been apotheosized here, and all these imposing 
buildings are so many temples dedicated to him. 

Thus have we raised a Pantheon to the nation’s 
gods ! 

For what, pray, are the pleasures money cannot 
buy? What are the desires Mammon cannot 
gratify? We only laugh at the things that have 
no purchasing power, and leave them to fools and 
dreamers ! 

But pause for one moment and gaze at yonder 
figure of Washington overlooking this babel of 
money changers. If that statue could speak to 
us with its brazen lips, might it not say: “Ye can- 
not serve Liberty and Mammon!” 

But, here we are at the office of Stuyvesant 
Bloodgood, Banker and Broker. Let us enter 
while the spirit of this musing is still upon us, and 
perhaps we may catch him in the very act of paying 
his vows to the Saint who is patron of greed and 
covetousness. There is the usual six days’ novena 
to Mammon going on there, and perhaps it may 
offer some lesson in the ethics of money worship. 

Mark how completely he is absorbed in his task! 
There must be something in serving Mammon after 
all, else such a man would have forsaken him long 
ago. It must be happiness when any man can lose 
himself in any pursuit like this. Alas! who can 
tell what a load he is tied to ? Perhaps he cannot 
pause if he would, and dare not stop to count his 
gains even. He who had the Midas touch learned 
to hate the sight of gold, and there are men living 


SAINT MAMMON 


55 


in this place to whom fortune means slavery. They 
do not own their money; their money owns them, 
body and soul. Having millions they can never 
hope to spend, they suffer agony of mind for fear 
they may lose a little of their hoard. The dollar 
mark is ever before their eyes, and it has burned 
itself into their brains and governs all their actions. 
Nay, money making has well nigh become a fetish 
with them. 

Let us hope, however, that Mr. Stuyvesant 
Bloodgood got some happiness out of this life of 
golden drudgery. He was not a bad man, as men 
of his stamp go. Indeed, if he only had time to 
think about his fellows, he was really charitably 
inclined. His subordinates fairly worshipped him. 
They had suffered themselves to be inspired with 
his spirit, until they had become so many machines 
to do his will. There was but one brain in this es- 
tablishment, and that was Mr. Bloodgood’s own. 

It was his custom every afternoon, when the 
stock exchange had closed, to betake himself to a 
choice restaurant, where a feast might be spread 
for the gods themselves. Perhaps this was the re- 
ward he got for the toil of a day ; for here he met 
his fellows of the money world, and made merry 
with them. They were men well in favor with 
themselves ; men who, besides being critics in 
finance, were connoisseurs in gastronomy, and knew 
wine by its flavor. Was it not something of a 
sight now to behold them flinging off the cares of 


SAINT MAMMON 


56 

a nation’s business and sitting like ordinary mortals 
over their wine, and discussing its quality? 

But on this afternoon Mr. Bloodgood remained 
at his desk later than usual. Everyone had left the 
office except Mr. Nimms, the head bookkeeper, and 
he, noticing how the hour of closing was past, and 
that his employer was looking grave and careworn, 
wondered mightily. He was a very odd man, this 
same Mr. Nimms, and was ambitious to pose as a 
scholar. Once upon a time he wrote a very learned 
article on a very learned subject, which he read 
before a very learned society and received a very 
learned title, by virtue of which he passed for a 
very learned man. Nevertheless, he said “I done,” 
and made other grammatical blunders too numerous 
to mention. The clerks in the office made fun of 
him because they were sad wags and considered him 
a very learned humbug. But he was a very good 
bookkeeper in spite of these drawbacks. 

Mr. Bloodgood called for a statement of Hamil- 
ton’s expenses, and when it was brought to him 
went over each item carefully. Mr. Nimms saw 
an opportunity here to air an opinion — a scientific 
opinion — on the subject of young men and their ex- 
travagances, and he could not be expected to let 
it pass. 

“Vices of all kinds are hereditary,” he began. 

This was hardly complimentary to the father of 
a dissolute son, but science does not deal with 
flattery. 

“Not only are vices hereditary, but they may 


SAINT MAMMON 


57 


be handed down for several generations without 
cropping out. This may be because they are de- 
nied the proper field in which to germinate, and 
then they spring up like thistledown that has lain 
dormant under winter’s snows, but revives and takes 
root in the sunshine.” 

This last figure struck Mr. Nimms as very 
pretty, quite poetical in fact, and he stopped a 
moment to digest it. 

“Not only are vices hereditary, but other things 
as well,” he continued. “Take the case of my 
oldest son, for example. The other day he got a 
position in Boston and started to go there without 
saying a word about it. He was packing his trunk 
when I got home and I learned from his sister that 
he was going to take a train that night. 

“ ‘Why, my son,’ I sez; ‘you ought to tell your 
mother and I of this.’ 

“ ‘Well,’ he sez, ‘I alius supported myself, and 
I guess it ain’t nobody’s business where I go.’ 

“Sure enough off he went, and to-day he is a 
rising man in his line. 

“Now, sir, he told the truth. He alius has sup- 
ported himself, and I done the same at his age, 
and so did his mother.” 

Mr. Bloodgood paid no attention to this display 
of erudition, although Mr. Nimms gave him op- 
portunity to comment upon it. He figured at the 
account in silence, and his hand actually trembled 
as he toyed with the pencil. He left the office very 
abruptly, to the regret of Mr. Nimms, who hoped 


SAINT MAMMON, 


58 

he might draw him into an argument that would 
advance the cause of science. When he came home 
later than usual, his wife noticed how fatigued he 
looked, but ascribed it to his intense devotion to 
business. 

“Aren’t you going to have your wine to-day, 
Stuyvesant?” she asked, when they were seated at 
the dinner table. 

The bottle old John had opened was untouched 
and probably old John himself would have the 
pleasure of emptying it when he dined later. 

“I have decided to stop drinking, my dear, so 
as to set an example to my son.” 

Hamilton winced. 

“I have shown him how a gentleman should 
use wine at his own table, and now I intend to 
show him how a gentleman should give it up, as a 
lesson to others.” 

Hamilton looked uncomfortable. 

“The man that allows himself to become a slave 
to his own appetites is no man at all in my opinion.” 

Hamilton did not even dare to look at his father 
now, but kept his eyes on his plate. 

But at this point the author makes his best bow, 
and begs to inform the reader that the story must 
return to Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby again. 


BOOK II 


CHAPTER I 

All the things that happened to Miss Willough- 
by during her trip abroad under the chaperonage 
of Mrs. Humphrey Provost, the sights she saw, 
the people she met, would make a book in them- 
selves if anybody chose to write it. The present 
biographer prefers, however, to pass them by, with 
the simple statement that a bright American girl 
is likely to hold her own, no matter where her lot 
may be cast. 

Long before the Old World discovered her, 
America had learned to appreciate the cleverness 
of its fair daughters. We had accepted the doc- 
trine on this side of the Atlantic that the American 
girl is irresistible, and it did not surprise us at all 
when the rest of creation woke up to the fact. 
Americans pride themselves on knowing a good 
thing when they see it. 

It has been remarked that there are no gentle- 
men of leisure in the United States. If this is any 
drawback, there are enough ladies of leisure to 
make up for them. It is one of the boasts of our 
59 


6 o 


SAINT MAMMON 


republican system that it has produced a society 
in which woman is queen. In proclaiming all men 
equal, our fathers were too gallant to put restriction 
on the gentler sex, and we have accepted an un- 
written law that permits them to become anything 
they choose. The only wonder now is that the 
men of America are not groaning under a tyranny 
worse than the one against which their fathers 
rebelled. If there is a privileged order in this 
land to-day, it is a feminine one. Everything 
comes to that refined autocrat, the American society 
woman. 

However, it is only to be expected that an insti- 
tution so intensely feminine as society has become, 
should be open to attacks on account of its petty 
prejudices. Even her stoutest champion will admit 
that it is a serious problem how to emancipate 
woman from her clothes. Ages ago, when human- 
ity was created in the image of the pro-simians, 
some clever female discovered that the male crea- 
ture likes to be henpecked, and she assured all the 
rest of her sex that in this lay their great oppor- 
tunity. 

We have made no secret of the fact that Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby was the kind of a man the 
average woman could impose upon. Was he not 
eager to enroll himself among the devoted follow- 
ers of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones in society? Did not 
Mrs. Humphrey Provost use him very much as 
she would an errand boy? It is now our painful 
duty to show how his niece, a young woman to 


SAINT MAMMON 


6 1 


whom he had stood foster-parent, took it upon her- 
self to pull wool over his eyes and twist him around 
her little finger. Alas, better men than he have been 
made to realize their helplessness in this land of 
petticoat despotisms! 

It was while the Heathdale season was at its 
height, and on a pleasant day in early summer, 
that Madge Willoughby returned to the home of 
her childhood after an absence of a year or more, 
during which she had developed into womanhood 
and incidentally had acquired many of the conven- 
tionalities that are associated with the society girl. 
It is our privilege now to let her make a second 
entrance in the pages of this comedy under favor- 
able conditions. 

Her uncle was glad to welcome her. Ascetic as 
he was in the simple rule of life that he followed 
in his Arcadia, he told himself that he had every- 
thing to gain from his niece’s companionship. She 
had received the advantages of schooling and travel. 
Perhaps now it remained for him to take her in 
hand and mould her character to his conception of 
the Willoughby ideal. If he could do this, he felt 
that he might challenge the world to beat her. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby believed in family 
pride, as we have been at some pains to show. To 
his thinking it stood for the highest kind of re- 
finement. He believed in his Huguenot ancestry 
and he believed in the old-fashioned virtues that he 
had inherited with it. His ambition for Madge 
was that she might turn out a Willoughby of 


62 SAINT MAMMON 

Willoughbys, in accordance with the family tradi- 
tion. 

Further than this, he believed in those social 
standards which he associated with the favor of 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones. 

He was aware that there is a difference between a 
mere schoolgirl and a young lady ready to enter 
society. He cautioned himself not to be too 
severe with her, even while he sought to give her 
the benefit of a Willoughby example. Neither 
could he be insensible to the fact that she had de- 
veloped into a beautiful woman. 

It was a new experience for Mr. Willoughby to 
have so fair a creature sitting at his table and 
sharing his simple bachelor fare, as he had lived 
like an anchorite, with nobody but his invalid sister 
to keep him company. He began now to recall 
the days of his youth, and the elegance of manner 
that was practiced in old-fashioned drawing-rooms, 
when belles and beaux appreciated gallantry. He 
was on his best deportment, and ever ready with his 
most formal bow. 

Alas, poor man ! Wrapped in the contemplation 
of the Willoughby beatitudes, eager to merit the 
approval of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones for all his small- 
est actions, how was he to know what to expect 
from this daughter of the moderns? He would 
never imagine that in this girl of his own blood a 
large amount of dross could get mixed with the 
ancestral metal of her character, without being 
detected by him until it was too late. He did not 


SAINT MAMMON 


*3 


understand the mad vagaries, the unexpected mani- 
festations of the nature feminine, that have foiled 
cleverer men than he. Therefore he rushed to 
his fate. 

He was pleased to see that Madge was glad to 
get home again. In her enthusiasm she raved over 
the old place, and declared it was a paradise in 
which she would be only too happy to live forever. 
Neither can it be denied that she was much im- 
pressed with her uncle. She had been too young 
to appreciate him when she went away to school, 
but in the course of her experiences since she had 
learned to value his refinements. She decided now’ 
that he appeared to good advantage here in Heath- 
dale, and that the old manor was a proper setting 
to his dignity. He seemed to her not unlike some 
rare antique matched by these surroundings. There 
was something that excited her admiration in the 
way he ushered her into the dining-room and seated 
her at the table when she was to partake of her 
first meal in the old home. Evidently her future 
was in his hands. 

Madge’s prattle was about the glorious time she 
had had roaming in the capitals of Europe. She 
presided very charmingly over the coffee urn; for 
it was midday, and luncheon had just been an- 
nounced when she arrived. 

“But tell me, Uncle Roosevelt, why are you and 
Mrs. Humphrey Provost so distant to each other? 
I could not get her to come up here with me. She 


SAINT MAMMON 


64 

said she was not worthy to remain under the same 
roof with you.” 

Mr. Willoughby looked up surprised at this 
remark. 

“I was not aware that we were distant to one 
another,” he answered simply. 

“But you are. The moment you meet you are 
as stiff as martinets. And yet I really think she 
worships the ground you tread on.” 

“Does she indeed !” 

“Oh, my, yes ! The only time I have ever seen 
her really moved is when she talks about you. It 
takes a great deal to move Mrs. Humphrey Pro- 
vost, I can tell you.” 

“We are very good friends,” Mr. Willoughby 
said. 

“How long have you known her?” Madge 
asked. 

Mr. Willoughby looked grave. 

“Forever, I think.” 

“Did you know her before her first marriage?” 

“Her husband was my dearest friend. He died 
in my presence, and asked me to protect his widow. 
May I trouble you for another cup of coffee?” 

“Oh, that is it, is it?” Madge said. “Then 
there is no secret between you? I feared there 
was.” 

“There is only the memory of her past sorrow 
between us. She has been made to suffer keenly 
by the fault of others. She is grateful to me be- 


SAINT MAMMON 6 5 

cause I have been her friend and have appreciated 
the delicacy of her position. That is all.” 

“How did she ever come to marry her present 
husband?” Madge asked again. “The sight of 
that man makes me shudder. He is the coarsest, 
grossest creature I know.” 

“She was supposed to have made a brilliant 
match when she married him,” Mr. Willoughby 
answered. 

“I hope she did. There ought to be some com-* 
pensation for a woman that married such a little 
beast. If I had done so, I would have gotten a 
divorce long ago.” 

Mr. Willoughby was pained at this outburst. 
The Willoughbys prided themselves that there had 
never been a divorce in their family. 

“I trust, Uncle Roosevelt, you and I are never 
going to have a quarrel,” Madge said, by way of 
starting up the conversation again. 

If Mr. Willoughby was a little startled by this 
remark, he had the good taste not to show it. 

“I am sure we never shall, my child. Why do 
you ask?” 

“Oh, nothing, only I fancy you would be a hard 
one to make up with afterward. I like quarrels 
when there is making up afterward, but when there 
is not they are horrid.” 

Mr. Willoughby’s consternation began to betray 
itself in spite of him. 

“Mrs. Humphrey Provost and I quarreled all 
the time, but we made up afterward. She said 


66 


SAINT MAMMON 


I was trying to get all the men away from Her, 
but of course I wasn’t.” 

“Bless my soul!” 

Mr. Willoughby dropped his knife and fork, 
and stared at his niece in dismay. Here was a 
pretty state of affairs! Here was a revelation of 
the feminine that did not tally with Willoughby 
conceptions and defied the standard set up by Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones ! 

“I was right, of course, every time, but she 
would not acknowledge it at first. It would have 
been just as well if she had, though, because she 
was forced to acknowledge it in the end.” 

Mr. Willoughby gasped. Here he had been 
congratulating himself that this girl was a Will- 
oughby of Willoughbys! Here he had almost 
allowed himself to fall under the charm of her 
manner! Quarrelling a pleasure indeed! If Mr. 
Willoughby were to indulge such tastes, why — 
bless my soul — he would be sure to pass out of 
the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones ! 

“Hem ! I did not know that ladies of good 
family did such things,” he said icily. 

“Oh, that is nothing. Ladies do lots of things 
nowadays that were not considered proper once 
upon a time. Didn’t you ever quarrel, just for 
the fun of the thing?” 

“Most certainly not!” 

“Well, I am glad you told me. Quarrelling 
is an art, and like every art it has to be understood 
in order to be appreciated. You don’t understand 


SAINT MAMMON '67 

it evidently, and would be likely to take it seri- 
ously.” 

“I most certainly should,” Mr. Willoughby an- 
swered. 

He was a little dazed now. It had never oc- 
curred to him that anyone would question his 
standards, but he began to think that this niece of 
his was laughing at them. Just fancy anybody 
not caring for the favor of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones ! 
Fancy people indifferent whether they passed out 
of her memory or not ! Bless my soul ! What is 
the world coming to in these days ? 

On second thought, however, he was better 
pleased that she had been so frank with him. He 
fancied he liked frankness in a woman. She cer- 
tainly was honest in telling him her faults. Now 
he understood how to handle her, in order to raise 
her ideas to the Willoughby standard. 

If he had noted the expression that came into 
his niece’s eyes even as she spoke, he would have 
taken the alarm at once. 

But a man whose mind is fixed on winning the 
favor of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones cannot be expected 
to bother himself about such a trifle. 


CHAPTER II 


It was a pleasant sight to behold Mr. Willough- 
by walking about his paternal acres with the air 
of monarch of all he surveyed, and for the next 
few days after her return home, Madge found 
amusement in watching him. No lord of domain 
could assume a loftier bearing, and he looked every 
inch the country gentleman of the old school. There 
was something about his appearance at such mo- 
ments that revealed the spirit of benevolence. 
Nothing, it seemed to proclaim, would please him 
more than to succor the needy and protect the in- 
nocent, or be a benefactor to all who journeyed 
within his gates. He carried a gold-headed cane 
on these rambles and was constantly poking it into 
hedges and garden patches from mere force of 
habit. He seemed to believe that things would 
grow better because he gave them the light of his 
countenance. A man might be perfectly happy 
in this Arcadia, he told himself; that is, if he were 
sure of the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones and were 
not haunted by the fear of passing out of her 
memory. 

He was much attached to this old place, around 
which so many past associations gathered. The 
68 


SAINT MAMMON 69 

first Willoughby who came to America settled in 
this spot and built a dwelling here for his race. 
If those old walls could speak, what a tale they 
might unfold! For, never since Israel moved his 
tents encamping over against Jericho, has such a 
people entered a chosen land as those palefaces 
who crossed the sea and suffered in the wilderness 
that their children might inherit the promise. They 
toiled for the faith that was in them, but like 
Moses, could only point out the road over which 
some Joshua was to lead the nations to liberty and 
a higher civilization. 

Mr. Willoughby is not the only person who has 
made the mistake of living under the influence of 
the past until he has come to despise the present 
altogether. If the truth were known, our great- 
grandsires were not a whit more happy than we 
are*. They toiled very much as we toil, suffered as 
we suffer, hoped as we hope. Humanity was just 
as sinful in their age as it is to-day, just as selfish, 
just as covetous, and there was just as much misery 
in the world in proportion to the number of in- 
habitants. However, it is useless to attempt to 
convince some people of these facts, and perhaps it 
might not be a kindness to do so. 

In the conceit of his ancestral pride, Mr. Will- 
oughby had come to believe that his very servants 
were superior to all others because they were 
Willoughby domestics, and he treated them accord- 
ingly. Old Hetty, his housekeeper, had succeeded 
her mother in the position she held. She was born 


70 


SAINT MAMMON 


on the place, and had no other ambition except to 
die on it. William, the man of all work, tilled 
the farm to the best advantage, and as butler, pre- 
sided over the pantry. On a pleasant afternoon 
he was metamorphosed into a coachman, and drove 
his master, and sometimes his mistress too, about the 
country with great dignity of deportment. When 
now Mr. Willoughby attempted to introduce other 
servants into his establishment, these two took 
offense at their ways and bundled them out of doors 
unceremoniously. They permitted him to have a 
cook, but it was by mere accident that he got this 
concession from them. 

It is another proof of an evenly balanced mind 
that Mr. Willoughby took a drive on an afternoon 
over the same route he had traversed for a number 
of years without a thought of changing it. But 
on one memorable occasion he did so, and met with 
an adventure he was not likely to forget. 

He was passing along a lonely road near a 
wretched hovel, from which he heard screams and 
cries of distress. Looking around he beheld a 
drunken man beating a woman, while two dirty 
children stood by sobbing, thereby adding to the 
noise. There was a sudden poke at William’s back, 
the carriage came to a standstill, and Mr. Willough- 
by called out : 

“William, what’s the matter there?” 

“Matter, sir?” inquired the phlegmatic William, 
opening his eyes. 

“With that woman, there?” 


SAINT MAMMON 


7i 

Whereupon William looked in the direction of 
the hovel and took in the situation. 

“Husband’s abeatin’ her, sir,” was his terse sum- 
mary of the affair. 

“Stop him at once!” Mr. Willoughby cried, in 
great indignation. 

Like an obedient servant William promptly 
rolled himself off his seat, and advanced on the 
man. He snatched his club away and knocked him 
down and shook him, while his master looked on 
approvingly. Finally, he kicked him into a corner, 
where he lay in a drunken stupor. 

The woman and children stood aghast at the 
sight, but when Mr. Willoughby beckoned to them, 
they came forward blubbering. He looked at them 
in dismay, his face fluctuating between pity and 
loathing. They were the dirtiest, raggedest ob- 
jects he had ever beheld. 

“Bless my soul!” 

He motioned them to stand where they were 
and they obeyed, still blubbering. 

William now approached, touching his hat, to 
await further orders, and in his helplessness his 
master turned to him. 

“William, can’t something be done? Something 
must be done! The authorities ought not allow 
this sort of thing! It is monstrous! It is bar- 
barous ! Find out who they are.” 

William asked the woman a few questions which 
his master could not hear, and then came forward 


72 


SAINT MAMMON 


again to announce that the man was a worthless 
character, and spent all his money for drink. 

“But something must be done, you know 1” pro- 
tested Mr. Willoughby. “They are human beings, 
and ought not to live like this. Can’t the authori- 
ties do something?” 

William shook his head, and Mr. Willoughby 
looked vexed for a moment, and then he seemed 
to make a sudden resolution. 

“You may tell the woman to come nearer. I 
will speak to her.” 

Agreeable to this summons, the wretched crea- 
ture approached the carriage, her children clinging 
to her skirts. They had stopped crying, and were 
quite awestruck. Mr. Willoughby was a little 
staggered by the sight, but he mastered his feelings 
by an effort. 

“Better not give her any money, sir,” whispered 
William. “Her husband will get it away from her 
and spend it for drink.” 

“Bless my soul ! You are quite right. Madam 
— my good woman — William, ask her if something 
can’t be done?” 

“Better let her call at the house, sir, for some- 
thing to eat and wear.” 

“The very thing ! Tell her to call at once, and 
you may drive me home immediately,” Mr. 
Willoughby said again, still addressing William, 
however, although he might as well have spoken 
to the woman herself, as she was within hearing; 


SAINT MAMMON 


73 

but he seemed to think he must communicate with 
her through a third party. 

William gave the woman a few directions, 
mounted to his perch and drove homeward, while 
his master threw himself back on the seat, and did 
not change his position for the rest of the drive. 

Perhaps he was planning what he would do for 
the wretched creature whom chance had thrown in 
his way. His face wore the blank expression pe- 
culiar to it when he was greatly moved. 

> That evening there was a council of war in Mr. 
Willoughby’s kitchen, to debate the propriety of 
allowing the woman to reside in a cottage on the 
estate, which had long been vacant. Old Hetty 
had to be heard of course, and grumbled not a lit- 
tle ; but when she discovered that the proposed ten- 
ant could do the family cooking, in place of a hussy 
she had long wanted to get rid of, she relented. 

But now a new danger arose. The drunken 
husband, what might he not do? Fortunately, 
William was a man full of expedients, and at this 
juncture he came forward again and had him ar- 
rested, and he died in a hospital in a fit of delirium 
tremens. But before this Mr. Willoughby had so 
far won him by his kindness that the wretched man 
sent for him in a fit of remorse, and entrusted to 
him the sad story of his wasted life, its failures, 
and its shames. He had been a gentleman before 
drink got the better of him, and when Mr. Will- 
oughby discovered his name he was glad he had 
run across him under any circumstances. 


CHAPTER III 


In Mr. Willoughby’s estimation there were just 
two kinds of people in the world : those who would 
pass out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, 
and those who might hope to win her favor. Most 
residents of Heathdale belonged to the former 
class, and these he was careful to avoid. But there 
were a few persons in the place that had taken up 
society professionally, and bade fair to get on in 
it. With these he always maintained the friend- 
liest relations, and now that Madge had returned 
home for good and all it occurred to him that he 
should accept the social opportunities that such ac- 
quaintances offered, lest his niece find his humdrum 
manner of living too tame. A young girl like 
her must have excitement, he told himself, and it 
was a comforting thought that he could choose her 
friends for her. Consequently, when Mrs. Cad- 
wallader Mansfield gave a ball to the elite of the 
place, Mr. Willoughby did not ignore the invita- 
tion that came to him. 

“You can’t get out of it this time, Willoughby,” 
Mr. Mansfield himself said, when he called one 
evening to inquire after the health of his sister. 
“The young fellows are crazy over that niece of 
yours, and you must be there to protect them.” 


74 


SAINT MAMMON 


75 


Mr. Mansfield was a facetious man, and must 
have believed that he had said something bright, 
because he laughed immoderately at his own remark 
and poked Mr. Willoughby playfully in the ribs 
by way of a hint that he should enjoy the joke also. 
The latter was willing to humor him, as he be- 
longed to a nice family, and was related to a num- 
ber of good people. 

Madge went into esctasies over the affair. She 
threw her arms around her uncle’s neck, called him 
an old dear, and promised she would be very good 
and not cause him a speck of trouble. Then she 
flew upstairs to tell Aunt Kate all about it, caus- 
ing the poor invalid to smile at her enthusiasm. 
Next she got out her dresses, and her uncle was 
called upon to decide which one she should wear to 
the ball, and when he did so he got another hug, 
and was called an old dear again. 

Now, how could so simple a man as Mr. Will- 
oughby be expected to resist this siren? How was 
he to know that under this loving exterior lurked a 
spirit of coquetry which might yet be his undoing? 
She was so sweet, and kept vowing that he was the 
dearest man on earth. She was going to be so 
good, and they were going to have the nicest times 
together! Again he would be hugged and called 
a dear, until he began to believe in her as a Will- 
oughby of Willoughbys. But for that matter, 
didn’t Adam believe in Eve? Didn’t he eat the 
forbidden fruit like a fool because she told him 
to, and get into a heap of trouble afterwards? 


SAINT MAMMON 


76 

And haven’t the sons of Adam been playing into 
the hands of the daughters of Eve ever since, and 
in all likelihood they will do so until the end of 
time? 

No one had ever warned Mr. Willoughby that 
it is best to beware of a woman when she is all 
smiles, and he did not suspect that his niece was 
planning to lead him a dance that should be to her 
own piping. 

Is it that youth is wholly mischievous, that it 
delights to play upon the foibles of its elders? Or 
can it be that there is something of the original 
wilfulness in every woman that impels her to dis- 
cover, if she can, of what texture the sterner sex 
is composed? Mr. Willoughby’s house had been a 
veritable Eden to him until Madge entered it — a 
woman with all her vagaries — to conspire against 
its peace. 

She insisted on dressing up in her ball dress and 
made her uncle don his evening suit for the benefit 
of Aunt Kate. The sweet invalid sat in state, and 
received them as if she were holding a reception, 
while Old Hetty stood open-mouthed in the door- 
way. 

Poor Aunt Kate! What a treat this was to 
her, whose life had been mostly pain and suffering ! 
But she was so gentle, and so resigned under her 
affliction ! Love for her had been the one restrain- 
ing influence of Madge’s childhood. It was she 
who stood mother to her in those trying days, and 
it was her teaching she listened to, and tried so hard 


SAINT MAMMON 77 

to follow. Madge wanted to be good for her 
sake, but somehow she did not always succeed. 
How often would she go to her in a penitent mood, 
and confess some naughtiness, and the gentle re- 
proof she got was the worst of chastisement. She 
liked to sit by her and listen to her stories of the 
reward that comes to those who lead a righteous 
ife, and when she thought of heavenly things she 
associated them with Aunt Kate herself. 

All this related to the long ago years of her 
girlhood, but the memory of them seemed like 
yesterday. Aunt Kate’s illness had embittered those 
days, and she could recall how gloomy the house 
used to be in consequence. She would wander aim- 
lessly about, trying to conceal the grief that was 
eating into her heart, or stealing on tiptoe to her 
aunt’s door, would listen at the keyhole, only to 
fly away with a white face, as she caught the smoth- 
ered groans of the poor sufferer. Those fearful 
sounds, how they haunted her! At night they 
would be ringing in her ears as she fell asleep, and 
she wept bitter tears to the echo of them. She 
devoured the faces of the doctor and the nurse, 
but did not dare ask how the patient did. No one 
paid any attention to her, and she was very lonely. 

She must Have been a sullen child. She would 
have fights with Old Hetty about soiling a frock 
or getting her hair out of curl. She despised all 
things girlish, and was more than half a boy in 
her tastes. William, the man of all work, was 
very good to her, and used to take her about and 


SAINT MAMMON 


7 * 

explain many of the things relating to his labors. 
Sometimes he would carry her home with him to 
his cottage nearby, where his wife made much of 
her. She was a motherly woman, and felt for the 
poor little orphan. She had children of her own, 
too, with whom Madge played. When now any- 
thing went wrong, so that one of them got to cry- 
ing, William’s wife would run to the rescue with 
a slice of bread and butter coated with sugar, which 
soon put matters to rights. Mr. Willoughby never 
knew how much his niece owed to this good soul, 
during a trying period of her existence. 

He decided she was a strange child, and avoided 
her as much as possible. He heard her complained 
about so often that he came to think she was wholly 
given to mischief, and it was only the fact that she 
was a Willoughby which kept him from despairing 
of her altogether. 

One day he discovered her creeping toward the 
parlor, which was always closed in accordance with 
a good old custom, and he determined to follow 
her and find out what she was up to now. She 
had laid her hand on the door-knob as he presented 
himself hurrying from the library, where he had 
just finished his afternoon nap. The child had 
come to have a kind of awe for him, but on this 
occasion she faced him unflinchingly. Mr. Will- 
oughby was positively startled by her expression, 
and for a moment he stood rooted to the spot. He 
had seen that same look on her dead father’s face, 
and it made him feel uncomfortable. 


SAINT MAMMON 


79 

“Where are you going, my poor child?” he 
asked, quite forgetting his suspicions of her in the 
recollections that crowded upon him. 

“To look at my father’s picture.” And the 
dark eyes, that always betrayed her feelings, flashed 
at him as if anticipating opposition. 

But Mr. Willoughby was touched. He led the 
way into the parlor and pushed back the heavy 
curtains, so she might see better. 

The child caught her breath and gazed longingly 
at a likeness of his brother, which Mr. Willoughby 
himself had had painted from a photograph, and 
hung there among the worthies of his race. She 
had looked at it many times before, when nobody 
knew it. She had often stolen into the parlor for 
this purpose, and of an evening when the room 
was lit up she would get off into a corner and 
study it until she fell asleep. Somehow that por- 
trait seemed to talk to her. 

Mr. Willoughby felt a little embarrassed as he 
watched her now. It occurred to him all at once 
perhaps he had not shown enough regard for her. 
She was a very strange child, very. 

“Uncle, you haven’t a picture of my mother.” 

“Bless my soul ! No, my child, I have not.” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

“Bless my soul! *Er — because I don’t happen 
to, I suppose.” 

“Aunty says she never saw her.” 

“No, she never did, but I knew her very well,” 


8o 


SAINT MAMMON 


Mr. Willoughby averred, and then added: “Your 
father was a fine man. I was very fond of him.” 

Just then his eye rested on his brother’s picture 
and it seemed to rebuke him. He was not given 
to sentiment, but he was moved by the memories 
which came to him at this moment. He kept his 
back towards the child and blew his nose several 
times. 

He wished she would leave the room, but she 
was still gazing at the portrait. She was a very 
strange child — very I 


CHAPTER IV 


When the night of the ball came around Madge 
had so worked on her uncle’s feelings that he was 
as eager for the event as she was. He soon dis- 
covered that she was not to be a burden on his 
hands, and made up his mind to enjoy himself a 
bit on his own account. For she had been seized 
by a young man the moment she appeared on the 
scene, and already had a crowd of admirers around 
her. As they were all members of good families, 
Mr. Willoughby felt easy about her and was soon 
ingratiating himself with the most exclusive set 
of the gathering. 

Some of these people had only taken up society 
in an amateur fashion, but they had become very 
proficient in it. Mr. Willoughby counted ten per- 
sons present whom Mrs. Snubbody- Jones would be 
forced to recognize. He felt at home at once. 

He shook hands with old Mrs. Highflyer, who, 
although an invalid by profession, never let an 
affair of this kind go by her. He chatted with 
Mrs. Frontup, who hastened to explain to him how 
it happened that she was not at Newport at this 
moment. He also met Miss Virginia Nonesuch, 
whom he could claim as a cousin on his mother’s 

8l 


82 


SAINT MAMMON. 


side, and who was the homeliest, and possibly the 
most aristocratic, person in the house at the time, 
and within many miles around it. 

“By Jove, Willoughby, you will have to keep 
an eye on that niece of yours 1” Mr. Mansfield said, 
as he approached him. “All the young fellows 
are crazy over her, and I don’t blame them, either. 
Blest if I wouldn’t be after her myself, if I were 
a young chap.” 

Mr. Mansfield was in fine feather this evening. 
He went about scattering his jokes right and left, 
and the way he laughed at them himself must have 
impressed everybody with the point of them. Mr. 
Willoughby smiled feebly at this remark, but Miss 
.Virginia Nonesuch, who happened to hear it also, 
only glared snubby daggers. 

The merriment was at its height now, and it 
was evident by this time that Madge was to be the 
belle of the evening. All the young men had pro- 
claimed themselves her admirers, and were watch- 
ing her with eager eyes. Stacey Mansfield, who 
as son of the hostess did the honors for his friends, 
had his hands full introducing them. But at this 
moment Madge was waltzing with Hamilton 
Bloodgood, so that Stacey was able to rest on his 
laurels awhile. By his side in all his horseyness 
stood young Van Hurdle, who went by the nick- 
name of “Jockey,” because he had once ridden a 
winner in a steeplechase. In his opinion every- 
thing that pertained to horses belonged to high 
art, but he knew, a fine woman when he saw her. 


SAINT MAMMON 


83 

“Well, what do you hold her at?” Stacey asked. 

“A cool million at the very least,” was Van 
Hurdle’s guarded reply. 

“How many seasons will you give her?” 

“Not more than two.” 

“I’ll go you a hundred even she wins out in 
one.” 

“I won’t take you,” said the cautious Van 
Hurdle. 

Then they both eyed Madge, as if she were a 
trotter entered for a race. 

“Do you think Bloodgood will get her?” 

Van Hurdle shook his head. 

“Too young. Old party with riches preferred.” 

At this moment Stacey was called away by his 
social duties. 

What a queen a woman can be, if only a few men 
do homage to her! She will rule them like a 
tyrant, and humor them like a slave. She will 
give them just enough encouragement to keep them 
dangling in her train. She will be whimsical, 
fickle, even heartless at times, but they will con- 
tinue to worship her, like blind devotees. 

Madge may have been inexperienced at the art 
of flirtation, but she was none the less a success 
at it. Many acknowledged belles were dismayed 
to find themselves deserted for this new beauty; 
and it only increased their chagrin because she came 
there unheralded. Many fond mammas, too, cast 
envious glances at her, venturing the remark that 
she was forward for such a chit, and they encour- 


SAINT MAMMON 


84 

aged their daughters to pit themselves against this 
upstart, who was carrying everything before her. 

Mr. Willoughby did not notice these things, 
but others did. In particular Miss Virginia None- 
such took umbrage at them. To say that they 
offended her would be putting it too mild. All 
the pride of the Nonesuches was concentrated in 
her snubby countenance, and she glanced at the en- 
raged matrons with snubbiest defiance. She re- 
joiced at the discomfiture of the other belles, who 
had regarded themselves as invincible, and felt 
proud of Madge for dethroning them. She spoke 
very civilly of her to Mr. Willoughby. 

He was charmed by this proof of favor; for if 
Miss Virginia had expressed her approval of the 
President of the United States, he believed that 
that gentleman would have cause to feel highly 
honored. Mr. Willoughby had great regard for 
her, in spite of her distant manners, and desired 
her friendship. 

Alas! his satisfaction was short-lived, however. 
Madge had grown weary of her triumphs and was 
beginning to flirt in real earnest. At this very 
moment she turned her back on Hamilton Blood- 
good, and accepted for a partner a young man who, 
according to her uncle’s code, was nobody at all. 

Mr. Willoughby could scarcely believe his eyes, 
and anybody that understood the situation would 
be forced to pity him. This was his niece’s intro- 
duction to Heathdale society, and she ought to 
try to make a good impression, instead of defying 


SAINT MAMMON \ 


» 5 . 

it in this fashion. If she did not care on her own 
account, she ought to consider him. So he 
reasoned, and his face took on the blank expression 
which it assumed whenever he was greatly moved. 

He had just started to pay his respects to Mrs. 
Bloodgood herself, and he felt as if he had never 
been placed in a position more painfully embarrass- 
ing. But he was too well bred a man to show 
his consternation, and he talked to Mrs. Blood- 
good now with an icy dignity that held her atten- 
tion in spite of herself. 

But Madge’s conduct was beginning to excite 
attention, and it was plainly his duty to interfere. 
She swept by her former admirers with haughty 
disdain, and looked indifferent scorn at the people 
who were staring at her. 

Even Miss Virginia Nonesuch felt she had made 
a mistake, although she still cast snubby glances 
of approval at her. For she was not going to 
stand the insolent elation of the elder ladies at this 
point. But she made up her mind then and there 
she would not interest herself in the girl after all. 

Although outwardly calm and collected, Mr. 
Willoughby, poor man, was on pins and needles. 
Something had to be done, and that quickly. His 
only fear was lest he betray his feelings to every- 
body. 

He tore himself away from the exclusive people 
with whom he had been conversing so pleasantly, 
and started toward his niece in no happy frame of 
mind. Fortunately, Tom Allers anticipated him, 


86 


SAINT MAMMON 


He had succeeded in getting Madge for a waltz, 
and at its conclusion he led her to his wife. 

Hereupon a remarkable thing happened. His 
brother Jack had taken no part in the evening’s 
amusement, but stood around very much like a 
wallflower. Now he suddenly braced himself, 
and became Madge’s partner for a succession of 
dances, shutting out all rivals. The surprising 
part of it was that she seemed to like him and 
stopped flirting altogether. 

Mr. Willoughby went back to his friends with 
an easy conscience, and endeavored to show them 
by his icy politeness that he had not been one bit 
put out, and their excitement was uncalled for. 

The remainder of the evening passed without 
incident. He took Mrs. Bigslam out to supper, 
and listened to her account of her family affairs. 
Her daughter had married the Count Von Sauer- 
kraut of the German Legation, and of course she 
could not be expected to lose an opportunity to talk 
about the countess. Accordingly, Mr. Willoughby 
was entertained with a description of the Von Sauer- 
kraut castle on the Rhine, in which delightful 
recreation he passed his time until carriages were 
called. 

When, however, he had Madge safely deposited 
in the family vehicle and away from the scene of 
danger, he determined to show her what his feel- 
ings were with regard to her conduct. 

Now it was a peculiarity of his that he en- 
deavored to impress people not so much by talking 


SAINT MAMMON 


87 

to them, as by his manner toward them. In par- 
ticular, when he was put out by anything, he had 
a way of betraying it by the stiffness he could throw 
into one of his bows. There was something elo- 
quent in them beyond the power of words, if one 
only took pains to study them, because he had 
learned to express so much in this way. 

Consequently, the drive homeward passed in 
silence. But when he handed Madge out of that 
carriage and ushered her into the house, there was 
a whole lecture in his manner. She might have 
known from his frigid courtesy how displeased 
he was. She might have read volumes of reproof 
in it that tongue did not care to utter. We speak 
advisedly, because she had evidently steeled her- 
self against him. 

He held her hand an instant, dropped it with a 
reproachful salutation, and turned away. 

The moment Madge reached her room she threw 
herself on the couch, buried her face in the pillow, 
and gave way to laughter. 


CHAPTER V 


Mr. Willoughby arose later than usual the 
next morning, and when he reached the dining- 
room he found his niece had not put in an ap- 
pearance. He felt the dissipation of the previous 
evening, but his depression of spirits was owing 
to another cause. He had discovered that Madge 
was wilful and disposed to make trouble for him. 
Flirting was a thing he had never expected to see 
a member of his family indulge in. He was sure 
that in his youth no young lady would encourage 
the attentions of men, and except that he had seen 
it with his own eyes he would not have believed his 
niece would. 

Just fancy anybody defying society like this! 
Fancy any one deliberately doing things that would 
cause a man to pass out of the memory of Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones ! Bless my soul, what are we 
coming to in these days? 

His chop was almost cold when Madge came 
downstairs, looking as fresh as she had the even- 
ing before. The excitement had not weighed on 
her, and she must have slept with an easy con- 
science. 

Her bright manner and cheery greeting fell on 


SAINT MAMMON 


89 

dull ears, however. Her uncle was an automaton 
of bows at sight of her, and if she had been a 
stranger to him he could not have been more cere- 
monious when he handed her to the table. Never* 
theless, there was nothing in his bearing to betray 
the fact that breakfast had been waiting. 

Madge was prepared for an outburst on his part, 
and felt that all this dumbshow was only a pre- 
liminary to it. She had thrown down the gauntlet 
by her conduct at the ball, but she did not feel 
called upon now to commence the action. 

The meal that followed was marked by a dis- 
play of formalities on both sides, and while Mr. 
Willoughby’s deportment was above criticism, every 
move he made was as carefully studied as if he 
were acting it for a purpose. When he asked for 
more sugar in his coffee, it was done in such a way 
as would be most likely to convince her there was 
more he might say, and when he helped her to 
butter his silence was golden. The bow he gave 
her as she looked at him for a moment, meant so 
much she must have felt its full significance. He 
was satisfied in his own mind that he was convey- 
ing his sentiments to her by a kind of mental 
telegraphy. 

Neither was he far from wrong in his deductions, 
and if he had only spoken right out now there is 
no telling what he might have accomplished. But 
from this point forward he began to lose ground. 

As Madge casually looked over the field from 
her position behind the coffee pot her quick woman 


9 o 


SAINT MAMMON 


wit was not long in discovering that the power 
which had looked so formidable had many points 
where it could be attacked to advantage. Soon 
she had assured herself that her uncle’s forces were 
unwieldy, and that it only required a tearing away 
of this thin veneer of decorum, and the fighting 
would be all her own way. 

Realizing that he was on delicate ground, Mr. 
Willoughby watched his opportunity to crush the 
enemy at one fell swoop. It came when she sig- 
nified that she was finished breakfast, and he arose 
to open the door for her to pass out of the room. 
At this point he made his grand coup, and he was 
the punctilio of etiquette as he did so. He staked 
everything on one last bow, and a very clever move 
this was — the most Willoughby-like thing he had 
ever attempted. 

Unfortunately, Old Hetty was just entering the 
room bearing a tray on which was arranged Aunt 
Kate’s breakfast. She almost dropped it at the 
sight she beheld ; for she got the full benefit of that 
bow, and, except she was a Willoughby servant, it 
is doubtful whether she would have been able to 
survive it. But hers not to make outcry, hers 
but to cook and fry, so she managed to control 
herself by an effort. 

Madge ran to her at once, seized the tray, and 
started upstairs with it. 

Mr. Willoughby collapsed. 

She was laughing softly, and her face still wore 
a smiling expression as she entered the room with 


SAINT MAMMON 


9i 


her burden. At the sight of her aunt, however, 
she became grave again. She set the dishes down 
near the bed, stooped, and kissed the invalid al- 
most reverently. 

“Oh, Aunt Kate, you ought to have been to the 
ball. It was too gay for anything, and I acted 
like a perfect flyaway.” 

“Oh, no, you didn’t, dear,” came the answer in 
gentle rebuke, as near as she could come to rebuk- 
ing anybody. 

“Yes, I did,” Madge declared, saucily. “Uncle 
was beside himself. I could scarcely keep from 
laughing at him. Do you know, auntie, I just 
love to tease that man!” 

“But you must not have such thoughts, my child! 
They are not Christian.” 

“Oh, my precious, dear auntie!” Madge cried, 
throwing her arms impulsively about the invalid 
and kissing her, “I wish I were as good as you are, 
but I can’t help acting as I do. Uncle takes every- 
thing to heart so! You would have died laughing 
if you had seen him!” 

She glanced roguishly at the calm, patient face, 
her eyes sparkling with merriment. 

It was at such moments that Madge Willoughby 
looked her best, and her beauty would have elicited 
praise from the most sceptical. It did not come 
from repose, but from animation. It seemed to 
be lying hid in those lustrous eyes, until called 
forth by some emotion to play over her features, 
spreading like ripples in a pool. 


92 


SAINT MAMMON 


Aunt Kate stroked the dark-brown tresses with 
her thin white hand, and looked appealingly into 
her niece’s face, as she drew her toward her and 
kissed her full on the lips. What a picture they 
formed, this contrast of blooming youth and suf- 
fering age! It was health and hope and beauty 
sympathizing with infirmity and pain. 

“Oh, Aunt Kate, I wish you would get well !” 

“That can never be, my child. It is not the 
Lord’s will, and I must bear my affliction until His 
good time of deliverance.” 

A softer expression seemed to steal over Madge’s 
face at this moment, and her beauty was transcen- 
dentalized by it. 

“But you are not so weak as you used to be !” 

“No, dear. I feel stronger and suffer less. I 
give God praise for it every day, and you must, 
too, my child.” 

Madge looked very sober now. She seemed 
touched, almost tender, and her manner toward the 
invalid was all gentleness. She helped dress her 
and put her in the chair in which she was wont 
to go about. William came and carried it down- 
stairs, while she hovered near with pillow and 
shawl. A smile would steal over that face marked 
with suffering, as the young girl chatted so brightly. 
She was the poor invalid’s joy, and her greatest 
comfort. How she had been missed during all 
these years, and how eagerly her home-coming had 
been looked for! Now it seemed as if the patient 


SAINT MAMMON 


93 

sufferer had found a new spirit to brighten her 
life, so full of pain. 

Madge wheeled the chair out into the garden, 
pointing out to Aunt Kate the flowers which were 
blooming on every hand. The vigor of the season 
affected the invalid favorably and seemed to have 
imparted some of its own vitality to her; so that 
she was able to take a keener interest in everything 
these pleasant days. 

For, is it not true that the woods and fields do 
not appeal to us in vain, when they wake from their 
winter lethargy and deck themselves in their ver- 
dancy? We watch the opening blossoms with 
thankful hearts, and in them learn the lesson of 
hope. We see the little flower growing by the 
roadside, and take courage from it. We note the 
foliage of the forest trees, and own there is some 
trace of the old Eden left in us still. How rare 
a thing is beauty in any form, and how precious 
is the lesson that Nature teaches us through it! 
There is hope because there is the springtime. 
There is the realization of that hope because there 
is summer and the harvest season; and there must 
be faith, else none of these things could be. 

“See, auntie, here is such a pretty flower! I 
am going to pluck it for you.” 

The invalid smiled as she breathed its fragrance, 
and placed it in her bosom. 

“Thank you, my child,” she said, and her voice 
sounded so sweet that Madge was forced to stoop 
down and kiss her then and there. ( 


94 


SAINT MAMMON 


Lillian Thurston came in later. She had many 
things to tell Madge in the shape of compliments 
her appearance had elicited at the ball, but 
waited until Aunt Kate had retired to take a nap, 
and then the two girls could chat cosily together. 
Lillian had overheard some of them herself, and 
some she got from others ; but Madge did not reject 
any of them, even though they came second-hand. 

“Oh, Lill, wasn’t it a lark, though!” she cried, 
laying her head on her friend’s shoulder, and fairly 
dancing up and down in glee. 

Lillian of the Haughty Face thought it was. 
She enjoyed seeing Madge admired, because in 
her eyes she was all that is perfect. These two 
had been near neighbors since childhood, and had 
grown up to regard themselves as foster-sisters. 
Lillian of the Haughty Face was very refined, very 
well-bred, proud and distant in her manner, and 
devoted to Madge, whom she had learned to love 
from the first time they played together. There 
were plenty of people who thought her overbear- 
ing, but Madge, who read her heart, thought dif- 
ferently. 

Lillian was also able to tell her many things 
about Heathdale society, to which she was a 
stranger as yet. In particular she spoke about a 
club all the young men belonged to, and which 
had a bad reputation in some quarters. Rumor 
declared that the most frightful orgies took place 
within its cloistered walls, and many mammas shud- 
dered when their daughters were invited to it for 


SAINT MAMMON 


95 , 

a dance. Lillian further declared that Heathdale 
was an old-fogied sort of a place, and the people 
were staid and finnicky. 

Madge listened with deep interest to all this, 
and it was evident that she would like to know 
more about this same club and its members. 

Lillian remained to dinner, and was made wel- 
come by Mr. Willoughby, who admired her greatly, 
and was only too glad to have her with his niece. 
He inquired after her mother with his usual con- 
siderateness, and announced his intention of calling 
on her shortly. 

In the evening the Allerses dropped in, and later 
Hamilton Bloodgood called. If Madge was ask- 
ing herself what brought him there, she was none 
the less pleased with his visit. She cast many 
triumphant glances at Lillian during the course 
of the evening, and the dark eyes seemed to pour 
forth a dazzling effulgence of beauty. 


CHAPTER VI 


It would be useless to deny that Hamilton Blood- 
good was in love, because the fact was known to 
all Heathdale, and it was common talk at the 
gatherings of the Mercury Club, where the young 
men of the place met together. And now that 
he had fallen into Cupid’s snare, it is safe to as- 
sume that a higher ambition than dogs could furnish 
had entered his sporting soul. It is just possible, 
however, that the object of his affections took on 
the form of a bull-pup in his imagination, in order 
to attain to his ideals. No one had ever told 
him that such animals were not to be associated 
with the tenderest emotions of the heart, and until 
he was convinced to the contrary, he was likely to 
hold to his own opinion in the matter. One night 
he dreamed that he saw Madge attending a rat- 
killing, and straightway he acknowledged that he 
loved her better than he knew. 

A great many of his friends were inclined to 
take the affair facetiously at first, and accordingly 
Hamilton was made the butt of witticisms among 
the philosophers of the Mercury Club, who were 
not the kind of youngsters to let such proceedings 
pass without comment, particularly when they 
96 


SAINT MAMMON 


97 

affected one of their own number, whose weak- 
nesses were well known. 

“If Hammy takes my advice,” said Charley 
Poindexter, the cynic and oracle of the club, “he 
will stand some show with the girl. I have told 
him to read a few novels and a poet or two. The 
maiden has some soul and a proper idea of senti- 
ment. But if he goes in for dogs and rat-baiting, 
I will give any man odds he doesn’t get her.” 

The standard which these young philosophers 
had set up for themselves was decidedly anti- 
matrimonial. It did not require any deep pene- 
tration on their part to appreciate the fact that it 
costs something to keep a carriage, and that a palace 
on Fifth Avenue comes high also. Of course, if 
a man must marry, there is no law against it; but 
this kind of argument had found no advocates 
among them as yet, and would be likely to meet 
with disfavor. Dick Twaddleby, who because he 
was a wag, felt privileged to joke on the most 
solemn subjects, had laid it down as a rule that it 
is just as easy to love a rich girl as a poor one. 

“Hammie’s luck is just like mine, though,” he 
admitted. “Whenever I make an impression on a 
maid, she is sure to be penniless.” 

“How about that darling you were rushing last 
winter?” Charley Poindexter asked at this point. 

Poindexter had a habit of staring out of one of 
the club windows at a bit of scenery directly in 
front of his nose, and he did not take his eye off 
it as he spoke. He had been studying this same 


SAINT MAMMON 


98 

view for a number of seasons, as if he expected it to 
undergo a metamorphosis at any moment, and did 
not wish to miss the sight. He was never known to 
gaze at another landscape in all Heathdale, al- 
though there were some very fine ones in the lo- 
cality. 

“How about that darling you were rushing last 
winter ?” he asked. “She had money enough, I am 
sure. I am afraid you are fickle, Richard, with all 
your avarice.” 

“That affair hasn’t come to a head yet. I am 
doing the indifferent act just now and studying to 
appear unfeeling. I want her to go to papa with 
tears in her eyes, and ask him to do something for 
her Richard.” 

“Good idea that!” another philosopher inter- 
posed. “Love in a cottage doesn’t pay in these 
latter days.” 

“Love in a cottage!” repeated Richard in dis- 
may. “Dear boy, the man who said that had his 
eye on a cottage at Newport !” 

“Well, my wag,” Poindexter said again, still 
watching his view, “we expect you to redeem the 
reputation of this club by marrying an heiress. 
But when is your fate going to appear, and what 
is she likely to be?” 

“Can’t say, dear boy. Fates are not made to 
order. If they were I would marry to-morrow.” 

Poindexter was studying his view very critically 
now, and he seemed in a kind of reverie when he 
remarked half absently: 


SAINT MAMMON 


99 

“It takes something to catch an heiress, Richard, 
my wag. Those fellows across the pond offer them 
titles, and at present they are having a monopoly 
of the business. I am afraid you will have to 
find some substitute for the title, if you are going 
to play against them.” 

“Dear boy, that’s too easy. I can offer an 
empty pocketbook capable of holding all of papa’s 
ducats. That’s the next best thing to a title, be- 
cause it usually goes along with it.” 

“Right you are, Richard !” Stacey Mansfield said, 
without so much as looking up from the billiard 
table, at which he was busy scoring fancy carroms. 

Most of these young men were city-bred, and 
were possessed of city prejudices. In their opinion 
the United States was bounded on the north by the 
Harlem River, and was otherwise limited to the 
Island of Manhattan alone. When now they 
passed beyond these boundaries, even to tarry as 
nearby as Heathdale, they regarded themselves as 
exiles banished to a far country, whose habits and 
institutions they were in nowise bound to respect. 

Here they settled themselves for the summer 
season in the enjoyment of such luxuries as they 
were able to get, and possibly they hoped in this 
way to recover from the effects of their winter dis- 
sipations. These had consisted for the most part 
of sitting in a club window and staring at the 
people on the street for the better half of the 
afternoon and evening. Some of them even carried 
the fierce pursuit of health to the extreme of in- 


100 


SAINT MAMMON 


dulging in golf and polo playing, but most of them 
preferred to pass the time in the same fashion they 
did in their quarters in town, and would sit by 
the hour in the clubhouse, indifferent to the attrac- 
tions of nature without. 

To this element belonged the cynics of the club, 
and Charley Poindexter was their mouthpiece. It 
was their custom to meet together and discuss the 
newspapers, and yawn in concert, under the impress 
sion that they were enjoying themselves. Some- 
times they got into a bored argument on a bored 
subject, which was only dropped when the cul- 
minating point of boredom had been reached. 

Occasionally, however, the club went in for a 
little social excitement. When some of their 
friends happened to be in the neighborhood they 
threw the clubhouse open to the natives, who were 
supposed to come in full war-paint, and not feel 
offended at the indifference of their hosts. 

Anyone inclined to be critical of these young 
men need but watch them in town during business 
hours in order to appreciate the fact that they were 
not always idlers. It was only when the labor 
of the day was ended that they lounged into the 
Mercury Club, and assumed an air of innocuous 
desuetude, like men of leisure whose time was heavy 
on their hands. 


CHAPTER VII 


Hamilton Bloodgood’s infatuation was a topic 
likely to interest such philosophers in retirement, 
and accordingly the exiles did full justice to it. 
As the gravity of the situation dawned upon them, 
however, they stopped joking about it, and almost 
every man of them hastened to give Hamilton ad- 
vice in the matter. 

It was no common thing now for one of them to 
get him off into a corner and insinuate in the most 
delicate way that he had an infallible rule whereby 
woman could be won. This man had an experience 
that turned out bad, and he only wished to speak 
a word of warning. He would have won, he de- 
voutedly believed, if he had not done so-and-so. 
Don’t make desperate love to her on the start. 
Women don’t like it. Jolly her a little. 

Another had been successful, it seemed. He had 
gained the favor of a footlight queen, about whom 
half the town was crazy. Follow his advice, and 
you are a sure winner. Try the indifferent act, 
and never be jealous. That fetches them every 
time, and in his case it did for a belle of the ballet, 
who was hard to please. 

Still a third man, with more generosity than 

IOI 


102 


SAINT MAMMON 


experience, was willing to admit that he had never 
had the grand passion himself, but a sister of his 
had just become engaged. He would find out the 
trick from her, and report. 

Even Charley Poindexter tore himself away from 
his view one afternoon, and lectured Hamilton for 
half an hour on the folly of dragging bull-pups 
into a courtship. Men like Poindexter are sure to 
have had experiences in this line that enable them 
to give good counsel to a friend. 

For a time much excitement prevailed in the 
club on account of the affair, and it soon became 
evident that there were not lacking members who 
were willing to do Hamilton’s love-making for him. 
As it turned out, it might have been better for him 
if they had. 

Hamilton felt he was handicapped, all right. His 
father had been putting the screws on him of late, 
and had cut down his allowance, so that he could 
not shine to advantage. The elder Bloodgood could 
not appreciate bull-pups, and how was he likely to 
sympathize with his son’s passion? But in spite 
of all he had something up his sleeve that would 
save him. Yet he decided to stake his chances on 
a dog he owned. 

In Hamilton’s estimation sentiment amounted 
to nothing unless there was something to make it 
good, and that was where the dog came in. It 
was a thoroughbred, and he was very proud of it. 
No woman, he reasoned, could refuse him with 
the pup thrown in. He planned now to give it to 


SAINT MAMMON 


'io3 

Madge, provided she would take its owner along 
with it. 

Thus it came to pass that he was making the 
very mistake that Poindexter had warned him 
against by going in for dogs. 

He called on Madge one afternoon with the 
canine in question, and found her sitting on the 
lawn with her uncle and Lillian Thurston. 

He thought this was a golden opportunity for 
that pup to captivate Madge’s relative and friend 
for him, and thus smooth the way to matrimony, 
which so many swains find hard. But somehow 
fate was against him from the start. 

Now it happened that Mr. Willoughby had a 
horror of dogs, and at the sight of one could 
scarcely suppress a shudder. Nevertheless, be- 
cause the young man was his guest, and because he 
had great respect for his family, he managed to 
control his aversion long enough to greet him 
affably. He chose to assume that Hamilton was 
calling on him, and that his niece was only a sec- 
ondary attraction. He asked after his mother with 
his usual thoughtfulness, and discussed the weather 
with him without bias. In Mr. Willoughby’s 
youth it was part of every gentleman’s education to 
learn to endure bores, and to control his feelings 
under all circumstances. 

Madge appeared to admire the puppy, in spite 
of its ugly countenance. She took it up in her 
arms and caressed it, and straightway the heart of 
Hamilton Bloodgood went out to her. Such a 


1 04 SAINT MAMMON 

woman, he said to himself, would make any man 
happy ! 

In the course of the conversation that followed 
the dog was forgotten and allowed to wander about 
the place at will. Once it approached Mr. Will- 
oughby, wagging its stump of a tail, and with great 
presence of mind he stooped down and patted it 
on the head, as if he really felt an interest in it. 
The garden gate was open, and to his relief the 
dog passed through it. 

“William!” he cried to that functionary, who 
at the present moment was occupying the position 
of gardener, having dropped that of butler until 
dinner time. “William, you may close the gate.” 
This was a shrewd move on Mr. Willoughby’s 
part. The dog was out of the way now and could 
do no harm. He turned to his guest with renewed 
interest. 

But, alas! while he was enjoying himself thus 
pleasantly, suddenly, and without warning, there 
came from the garden a scream calculated to make 
the blood run cold, and in a twinkling William' 
burst upon the view, bellowing at the top of his 
lungs, the dog gripped to his coat-tails, and fairly 
sailing through the air as the man strode forward. 

“Bless my soul!” 

In his consternation Mr. Willoughby forgot his 
position as host, he forgot the polite training of his 
youth even, and bolted for a rustic seat, and was 
on top of it in a twinkling. Lillian gave a scream. 
Madge looked up bewildered, and everybody ex- 


SAINT MAMMON 


105 

cept Hamilton himself seemed to have lost self- 
possession. 

“Down, Gripjaw !” he cried. 

Straightway the dog let go its hold and its sullen 
eye lost its fire under its master’s glance. To avoid 
confusion Hamilton took it up in his arms. 

Now William in an agitated voice told how the 
“dorg” was “a-diggin’ ” in the onion bed and when 
he tried to drive it away it had jumped at him. 

Hamilton was amused at the man’s terror, 
although he felt mortified. When, too, he re- 
flected how the end of his coat-tail was the nearest 
thing to the dog’s grasp, thus showing how the 
poor little pup’s advances had been received, some- 
thing like a smile manifested itself for an instant 
on his beefy countenance. 

But he realized that the object of his visit had 
miscarried, and beat a hasty retreat. 

Poindexter was right. Dogs were his undoing. 


CHAPTER VIII 


It was some time before Mr. Willoughby re- 
covered from the mortification that this affair 
caused him, and ere he had done so he resolved 
to take such steps as should prevent a like oc- 
currence. Dogs were to be prohibited from enter- 
ing his place again, even though he had to offend 
a would-be guest in keeping them out. He got so 
worked up over this matter that he was almost led 
to assert himself for once in his life. Yes, bless 
my soul, he w T as going to take a firm stand now ! 

For, be it understood, Mr. Willoughby could 
assert himself under certain conditions. With the 
approval of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, for instance, he 
was not afraid to express an opinion on any sub- 
ject. But in this case he was not likely to take 
extreme measures, because the young man’s mother 
was a woman of high standing in society. It 
would never do to offend her, dogs or no dogs. 

Before he did anything he might have cause to 
regret, however, he decided to consult his friend, 
Mrs. Thurston. He had often gone to her about 
his domestic affairs, and always found her advice 
worth following. But what was his surprise to 
discover now that Mrs. Thurston was only waiting 


SAINT MAMMON 107 

for an opportunity to consult him on this very sub- 
ject. 

It seemed that it was the talk of Heathdale how 
Hamilton Bloodgood was devoting himself to 
Madge, and she warned him that it was his duty 
to interfere in such a way as to silence the gossips. 
She also declared that Hamilton Bloodgood was 
very dissipated and ought not to be admitted to 
the house. 

“I know what I would do if it were my case,” 
she said. “If he presumed to pay attention to my 
daughter, I would shut the door in his face. I 
only wonder his father does not realize what he 
is and try to reform him, but some people are blind 
to the faults of their own children.” 

Mrs. Thurston did not talk like this without 
reason for it. She was too well-bred a woman to 
slander any one. Therefore, this censure meant 
much, coming from her. 

“But he belongs to such a good family!” Mr. 
Willoughby said, helplessly. 

Just fancy a man who belonged to a good family 
being objectionable in any way! 

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Thurston answered in some 
scorn; “that does not excuse him from being fast 
and having low tastes. Family, or no family, I 
would not allow him to call on my daughter, and 
I am sorry she has been introduced to him.” 

Mr. Willoughby began to feel very uncom- 
fortable. The danger Mrs. Thurston had con- 


io8 


SAINT MAMMON 


jured up was greater than he supposed. Perhaps, 
now, he had been too lax. 

“But my niece is different from most girls,” he 
stammered. “She — she flirts, and with anybody 
at that!” 

He looked very blank as he made this admission 
about a Willoughby, and it was evident that it 
pained him to do so. 

Mrs. Thurston smiled a little, and reiterated her 
statement that she would like to see him paying 
attention to her daughter, that is all. 

“I tell you, Mr. Willoughby, when young men 
like Hamilton Bloodgood, brought up in the best 
families, are allowed to indulge their wild courses, 
we cannot be too particular about our girls. I am 
thankful to say I have never asked him to my 
house, and I never shall. Moreover, I shall warn 
Lillian against him, lest she meet him elsewhere.” 

This last remark went home to Mr. Willoughby 
and made him wince. He saw it all now. He had 
been too thoughtless. 

“Bless my soul, this is awful!” 

Mr. Willoughby did not believe in love. He re- 
garded it as a mild form of madness that young 
people get at times, and thought it ought to be 
treated like smallpox and other dread diseases. 
Then, too, while still under the spell of Mrs. 
Thurston’s anxiety, he began to be very much 
alarmed. Visions of Hamilton Bloodgood and 
dogs invading his house to claim Madge forced 


SAINT MAMMON 


109 

themselves upon him, and at the mere notion his 
face assumed its blankest expression. 

Bless my soul ! This is almost as bad as passing 
out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones ! 

Evidently Mrs. Thurston had something else on 
her mind, about which she would be glad to un- 
burden herself, although she hesitated to broach 
it. But, as Mr. Willoughby seemed thoroughly 
aroused by this time, she plucked up courage and 
spoke right out. 

It seemed she did not believe it had done Madge 
any good to go abroad with Mrs. Humphrey Pro- 
vost, and she told Mr. Willoughby as much. More- 
over, if it were the case of her own daughter she 
would stop all intercourse between her and a per-< 
son of such doubtful character. It was common 
talk that she and her husband were not on good 
terms, and she encouraged the attentions of other 
men. Mrs. Thurston wished to be just, and she 
wished to respect other people’s opinions. She 
tried to put the matter in such a light that Mr. 
Willoughby could not take offense at it, but she 
was forced to say that Mrs. Humphrey Provost 
was hardly the kind of a woman to be entrusted 
with the training of a young and guileless girl. 

“Hem ! Yes!” 

Mr. Willoughby’s manner underwent a sudden 
change. He always had a great respect for Mrs. 
Thurston’s opinion, and in this instance was willing 
to believe she was simply prejudiced. 

Poor Mrs. Thurston realized her mistake at 


no 


SAINT MAMMON. 


once, and bit her lip in her vexation. However, 
she swallowed her mortification and turned the con- 
versation to the subject of Hamilton Bloodgood 
again, hoping to recover lost ground. 

She told Mr. Willoughby what his duty was in 
this case, without caring whether he took offense 
at it or not. Madge, she declared, was like her 
own daughter, and she felt all a mother’s interest 
in her. She spoke with decision because she 
wished her hearer to share her fears. It would 
be most unfortunate for the girl and for her friends, 
to have her interested in so depraved a person. 
Mrs. Thurston used the word “depraved” on her 
own responsibility. She did not care who his 
family were, nor how well connected. He was 
not the kind of a man to be received into good 
society, let others argue as they may. The only 
thing she found comforting in this dilemma was 
the fact that it had not become serious. If her 
own daughter were concerned in it, she would go 
to almost any length to stop it altogether. 

Mrs. Thurston paused at this point in order to 
note the effect of her words, and was relieved to 
discover that Mr. Willoughby was alarmed again. 
Visions of dogs had taken possession of his thoughts 
once more, and he looked blanker than ever. She 
proceeded in greater confidence. 

Mr. Bloodgood was a good-looking man. All 
such fast men are. No doubt he could make him- 
self very agreeable to any young lady. All such 
fast men can. 


SAINT MAMMON 


hi 


Now she brought forward a plan to thwart him. 
Mr. Willoughby must throw his home open to 
other young men, in the hope that among a num- 
ber of admirers the objectionable one would be 
forgotten or thrust aside. But, to begin with, he 
must give a reception. 

By this time Mrs. Thurston had so worked on 
her victim’s fears that Mr. Willoughby would not 
have offered opposition to any proposal she might 
make to him. He simply wanted protection 
against dogs, therefore he fell in with her idea at 
once. To be sure, a reception was the very thing! 
Strange he had not thought of it before ! 


CHAPTER IX 


A MAN who is haunted by the fear of passing 
out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, may 
be expected to develop some peculiarities. He may 
even be excused certain eccentricities of conduct, 
such as Mr. Willoughby undoubtedly possessed, 
Fortunately, Mrs. Thurston had him well in hand. 
She realized what he was. As long as she was 
there to talk to him, Mr. Willoughby would assent 
to everything. Once free of her influence, he 
would forget his promises. 

She took care now to guard against this by hur- 
rying things forward, without waiting for him to 
act. A reception Mr. Willoughby had consented 
to give, and a reception he did give not long after- 
wards. 

Mrs. Thurston took the entire arrangements on 
her own shoulders, even to hiring the Casino, in 
which such events were usually held. The result 
was it became her party, although given in Mr. 
Willoughby’s name. 

Taken altogether it was a success. The Mercury 
Club came in a body, and, what is more noteworthy, 
the exiles so far unbent themselves as to lighten the 
duties of the hostess, which everybody remarked 
with wonder. 


IIZ 


SAINT MAMMON 


113 

William, Mr. Willoughby’s man-of-all-work, 
presided over a side-board, where he comported 
himself with dignity and with a view to his master’s 
interests. He did not forget the part he played 
on this occasion to his dying day, and could give a 
list of the liquors he was called upon to furnish 
guests of the exile type. 

If Mrs. Thurston had dared she would have 
snubbed Hamilton Bloodgood. However, she de- 
cided it would not help matters by doing this, but 
she was on the watch all the evening for a chance 
to show her antipathy for him publicly. It came at 
last, and in a manner that was both startling and 
unexpected. 

He had been dangling around Madge like a man 
possessed; but he had too many rivals now, and 
soon began to show signs of jealousy. Mrs. Thur- 
ston noted this with a satisfied smile. Her plan 
was working admirably. 

But what was it that suddenly caused her to 
sit bolt upright and get hot and cold by turns? 
Why did she change color, bite her lips, then grit 
her teeth together? What made her eyes flash so, 
and her breath come quick? 

She actually beheld this man turn from a hope- 
less pursuit of Madge and dance with her own 
daughter ! 

She could scarcely believe her eyes. What! 
Lillian accepting him, after she had been warned ! 

However, she managed to remain calm, and 
watched them without betraying herself. Per- 


'SAINT MAMMON 


ii 14 

haps she was glad of the opportunity to show Mr. 
Willoughby — to show everybody — how she could 
act in an emergency of this kind. 

When the dance had ended she approached the 
couple, prepared to assert her authority; and she 
did so most emphatically. 

It was like outraged Dignity turning on Slander, 
or Mistress Virtue gathering her chaste robes about 
her, and wrapping herself in her own immaculate- 
ness, to frown at Vice. 

She took her daughter’s hand and led her away. 
It was the cut direct, and everybody saw it; but 
the effect of it was lost on Hamilton Bloodgood. 

She did not allow Lillian to leave her side after 
this, and in her concern for her, forgot all about 
her duties as hostess. But she need not have wor- 
ried on this last head in the first place ; for Madge, 
all unconscious of the plans that had been formed 
for her welfare, was entering into the spirit of the 
occasion with a hearty good will, and had soon 
taken the management of affairs on her own shoul- 
ders. As acknowledged belle of the evening her 
position was not a trying one. The best proof of 
her success is found in the fact that the exiles of 
the Mercury Club were making themselves so 
agreeable. If she could drag these young philoso- 
phers out of their shells, she must have abilities of 
a high order. 

Up to this point the author has hesitated to ac- 
knowledge that the heroine of this story is a flirt, 
for the reason that the word has an ominous mean- 


SAINT MAMMON 


ing in the mind of the average reader. He now 
does so with pride. Furthermore, he begs to state 
that, if the American Flirt has wanted a champion 
all these years, behold, he has appeared at last ! 
The present writer is ready to take up the cudgels 
in her favor. 

Coquetry, he holds, is one of the rare accom- 
plishments of American womanhood, the outgrowth 
of democracy and a vindication of the Declaration 
of Independence. 

Not that all women should flirt, or even attempt 
it. On the contrary, flirts should be born, not 
made. It is a rare gift, this being able to sway 
the hearts of men at will, and not every woman pos- 
sesses it. She is none the less a true woman, be- 
cause she may have counterfeits of her feelings, 
which she feels an excuse for using upon occasion. 

Mark, too, that in a free society coquetry is 
shield and buckler to her. Sometimes it defends 
her against the ardor of an objectionable suitor 
more effectually than a show of indifference would 
do, and it is a mask under which she may cloak her 
true nature, to its protection. She is bolder be- 
cause she has faith in the weapon at hand, which 
she knows she can use with deadly effect. She is 
sincere because she acts on impulse, and people that 
act on impulse are always sincere. Coquetry to be 
real must have innocence behind it. 

A flirt has nine hearts, just as a cat is said to 
have nine lives, but eight of these are only make- 
believe lives, intended to foil him who would pos- 


SAINT MAMMON 


1T6 

sess the original against its owner’s wishes. Many a 
man discovers all too late that he has been pursuing 
the shadow instead of the substance, and has only 
won the imitation, when he flattered himself he had 
the real article in his possession. 

A flirt is an enigma and a most delightful one 
at that. You may study her evening after evening, 
you may follow her from one ball-room to another, 
and she is as much of an enigma as when you first 
met her. Sometimes, when she seems hollow and 
superficial, she is most sincere, and appearances 
with her are so deceptive a man must have his wits 
about him in order to know how to take her. She 
will give him all the sympathy he desires; for she 
is sure to be a woman of the tenderest susceptibili- 
ties, and she will reject his love so sweetly that he 
cannot be angry at her in spite of himself. She 
will leave him almost with tears in her eyes, and 
begin to smile on the next admirer before he is fair- 
ly out of sight. 

A flirt can flatter a man and make him feel he 
is a most fascinating fellow. Neither are her 
powers limited to one alone. She can handle num- 
bers, and handle them right, too. You may fill 
a room full of men and women and start them to 
talking very learnedly about the weather until they 
are in danger of boring each other; but let now a 
flirt appear, and presto ! what a change comes over 
everybody ! 

There was a naturalness about Madge’s coquetry 
which made it all the more charming because she 


SAINT MAMMON 


1 17 

was unconscious of it. Her success lay in her rare 
sympathy. Every man that approached her felt 
that she appreciated him as nobody had done be- 
fore, and believed that she discovered at once the 
things he hid from others in the spirit of modesty, 
but which he wanted others to find in him. There- 
fore he responded to her influence in a kind of self- 
conceit, and under the fire of her eyes and while 
still feeling her presence, he imagined he was des- 
perately enamoured of her. 

But was she in earnest, he was forced to ask him- 
self afterwards. The answer came “no” from his 
own conviction, and in the realization that she 
was trying to be agreeable, he excused her. It is 
something to be able to make love to a man and 
at the same time make him feel you don’t mean 
anything by it. Only a born flirt can do this. 

Madge possessed a quick mother-wit and ready 
tongue. What flirt was ever lacking in either? 
She was always sure of herself, even when on 
dangerous ground. All flirts are. She could talk 
about love by the hour, but she never talked love 
itself. She was too clever for that. With her, 
coquetry was the pantomime of love, a most sweet 
comedy of it. 

There were half a score of men about her at 
one time all the evening, each jealous of the other, 
and yet she managed them so skillfully they did not 
clash. This is the height of coquetry. It is easy 
enough to handle one man alone, but to keep sev- 
eral admirers going at the same time — this is a 


1 1 8 SAINT MAMMON. 

different matter, and it proved she was past mis- 
tress of her art. A true flirt is open and above- 
board. She will practice more eagerly in a parlor 
with a crowd than when alone with one admirer, 
and subterfuge is no part of her nature. 

“You are a great success this evening,” Jack 
Allers whispered to her, as he forced his way 
through the circle to claim a waltz she had prom- 
ised him. 

“How is that?” 

The dark eyes looked roguish, and she bent her 
head toward him so that he had a view of her 
neck and shoulders. Somehow the sight made him 
tingle, and he was suddenly tongue-tied. Her 
breath was on his cheek, and a soft laugh was 
ringing in his ears. Jack’s senses fairly began to 
reel, and he would have been done for then and 
there, but that he was not the kind of a fellow to 
indulge in day-dreams and possessed great self- 
control into the bargain. 

But some of her other victims were not so philo- 
sophical and were inclined to be put out by the way 
Jack was carrying things. They noted that when 
he appeared the charmer seemed to forget every- 
body else and turn all her attention to him. 

“Hang the fellow!” muttered Jockey Van Hur- 
dle, as he surveyed the couple ov*er his horsey shirt- 
front. “I was getting along swimmingly with the 
girl when he stuck his oar in!” 

Jockey did not often give way to his feelings 
like this, and it was well known that he and Jack 


SAINT MAMMON 


1 19 

were the best of friends. Perhaps there was some 
truth in the report that had got around lately, to 
the effect that Jockey was turning cynic, impressed 
by the changes and chances of this sporting life 
and the uncertainty of horseflesh. Just then Mr. 
Willoughby loomed up on the view, and Jockey 
took a crack at him to relieve his feelings. He 
was doing the honors as host to some elderly ladies, 
very plain, but intensely respectable, and was giving 
them the full benefit of his old-fashioned courtesy. 

“All that old chump knows about horses is that 
they have four legs,” Jockey muttered to Charley 
Poindexter, who stood by his side. “If it were 
not for him a man might stand some show with 
that niece of his.” 

But Charley Poindexter was not paying the least 
attention to Mr. Willoughby or to Jockey Van 
Hurdle, either. He had no eyes for anybody but 
Madge. He was studying her now very much 
as he did a bit of scenery directly in front of his 
nose, when he gazed out of a certain window at 
the Mercury Club, and he would not have been 
surprised if she had turned into a fairy on the 
spot. 

“By Jove, that girl is a stunner!” he said at 
length, and Charley Poindexter did not often praise 
a woman. 

But Jockey Van Hurdle only scowled harder. 


CHAPTER X 


For the next few days after this event a panic 
seemed to have broken out in the Mercury Club. 
At least, this is what Heathdale concluded when it 
beheld the exiles, usually so indifferent to its bland- 
ishments, flocking to Mr. Willoughby’s house, 
singly and in pairs. The club-house might have 
been closed now for all the young men stayed there 
of an evening. 

Heathdale mammas were scandalized. They 
asked themselves, with a show of irritation, what 
had caused this sudden exodus. Could it be that 
saucy chit of a niece of Willoughby, who was not 
to be compared to their own fair daughters? Not 
being able to answer this question, Heathdale 
mammas began to insinuate that Madge was a de- 
signing hussy, and would let a man go to any 
length in order to hold his favor. 

Some of these unkind remarks were borne to 
Madge’s ears, but they did not worry her at all. 
Trust a flirt to hold her own against the scandal- 
mongers. Fortunately, however, Mr. Willoughby 
did not hear them. 

In order to appreciate the sensation that the 
exiles were causing, the reader must understand 


120 


SAINT MAMMON 


1 21 


that there were two factions among them. Dick 
Twaddleby represented the one, Charley Poindexter 
the other. The followers of the former advo- 
cated athletics; those of the latter suffered from 
an aggravated conception of bad form, and were 
suspected of being cynical. 

Dick Twaddleby was a philosopher of the mod- 
ern Epicurean school. He believed that this old 
world, if left to itself, would drift into salvation 
in the ordinary course of nature, whereas some of 
those people who make a virtue of saving it may 
be only trying to drag it out of its sphere. At one 
time in his career Richard passed for the best- 
dressed man in Harvard, and it was related of him 
in his undergraduate days that he would follow a 
tailor around and consult him with a show of defer- 
ence; but the learned remarks of a member of the 
faculty fell on deaf ears. He was a remarkable 
fellow in many ways, and once he invented a new 
fashion in neckties that became popular. 

Charley Poindexter, on the other hand, gained 
a following for his conservatism. He was a 
thorough man-about-town, and had a good club 
education before he joined the exiles and became 
interested in his view. He may have seemed some- 
thing of a pessimist as compared with the mercurial 
Richard, but it is only fair to say that a great 
many honest-minded men have been suspected of 
being more misanthropic than Charley Poindexter. 

It is only another proof of Madge’s powers of 
fascination that she was voted by both these fac- 


SAINT MAMMON 


122 

tions a very stunning girl and a well-groomed one 
in the bargain. Praise of this sort was not to be 
considered lightly; for the exiles were both stick- 
lers for style and critics of form as well. But, for 
that matter, a flirt can wear a bit of ribbon so as 
to make it seem the costliest raiment. 

She received them all in the most impartial 
fashion, and was very gracious and affable. A flirt 
can throw into a smile or a glance a world of sig- 
nificance. Her manner did not imply that she had 
any favorites among them, and although some of 
them were as clumsy as bears in a parlor, she made 
them feel at their ease. It is a part of every 
society woman’s education to learn to endure bores, 
and flirts acquire the habit without effort. 

It was almost enough to confirm the impression 
that prevailed in some quarters as to Madge’s 
powers of witchery over young men, when Jockey 
Van Hurdle enrolled himself among her callers. 
For Jockey was never before known to become in- 
fatuated with anything but a horse, and his friends 
often told him if he would only give the same atten- 
tion to books that he wasted on the turf, he would 
be a fair scholar. As to his conversational powers, 
Dick Twaddleby once remarked that it took a phy- 
sician’s diagnosis to find out what he thought about 
the weather. But perhaps Jockey understood more 
about the fair sex than he got credit for. 

The ability to entertain must have been a Will- 
oughby trait anyhow, because Mr. Roosevelt 
Willoughby laid himself out to make it agreeable 


SAINT MAMMON 


123 ] 

to these young men. Come to think of it, the old 
manor must have been built by people who were 
fond of this sort of thing. It opened up so well 
of an evening. 

In accordance with the old-school notions in 
which he had been trained, Mr. Willoughby was 
assuming that the exiles came to the house to see 
him, and he ignored his niece as an attraction to 
them altogether. He proved himself a very master 
of etiquette in the way he handled them, and his 
icy politeness must have checked their ardor, even 
if it did not cool it. He discussed the weather 
with them in all its phases, and he flattered him- 
self that he taught them a few points on the sub- 
ject of manners that they would do well to heed. 

All this is proof of the family heredity, because 
there was no common ground on which Mr. Will- 
oughby could meet these young men. He had 
never had a youth of his own in their sense, and 
could hardly be expected to sympathize with many 
of their tastes. He had been too proper to in- 
dulge in frivolity of any kind, and the fact that 
he was born a Willoughby had a depressing effect 
on him. He did not wish to be severe with them, 
but he hoped for their families’ sakes that they 
were not guilty of some of the things charged to 
them. He was not addicted to gossip, and in par- 
ticular Heathdale gossip was far too plebeian for 
his aristocratic susceptibilities, but he had heard 
reports of bacchanalian revels at their club-house, 
of which he could not approve. 


124 ’ 


SAINT MAMMON 


As to allowing them the run of his house — well, 
he was there to see that they took no liberties, and 
wasn’t his niece a Willoughby? He was soon 
made sensible that his presence had the desired 
effect in that it checked any tendency toward levity 
on the young people’s part. Politeness, as he un- 
derstood the term, was a lost art to these young- 
sters. He was positively pained by their indiffer- 
ence to things which he thought betrayed the gen- 
tleman and proved good breeding as well. In 
spite of the fact that so many of them belonged 
to fine families, he was unable to overlook their 
behavior. 

Moreover, he was sure that when he was one- or 
two-and-twenty, a well-bred young woman would 
not permit herself to be alone with the other sex. 
Her manner in the presence of the men who sought 
her society was always reserved, and as to her 
opinions, she agreed with older persons, who spoke 
and acted for her. The present-day familiarity 
rather annoyed him, and he took care to frown on 
it. He felt that he had a mission to perform in 
the case of these young people. Perhaps by his 
example he might be able to correct them, and even 
inculcate in their minds a respect for the Will- 
oughby ideal. 

But, strange to say, he scarcely had a chance 
to get interested in them, because the exiles sud- 
denly ceased their visits, leaving him at a loss to 
account for their actions. His niece did not seem 
at all surprised by it, because when he asked her 


SAINT MAMMON i 25. 

for an explanation she only looked roguish, and 
although she answered not a word, he began to 
suspect that she knew more than she cared to tell. 
But he took care to show that the offense did not 
lie with him, by going out of his way to be nice 
to the exiles. Just fancy a Willoughby doing any- 
thing out of place on so slight a pretext ! 

But he did not have to wait long ere Mrs. 
Thurston put in an appearance to enlighten him. 
While her plan had been working so well she 
kept away, but now that something had gone 
wrong she appeared again. 

4 ‘I see the young men have been driven away,” 
she said, by way of introducing her subject. 

Driven away indeed! This was news to Mr. 
Willoughby, and he was grateful to Mrs. Thur- 
ston for telling him as much. But who drove 
them away? He was sure he did not. 

“She drove them away,” Mrs. Thurston said, 
almost gloomily. 

Mr. Willoughby stared. 

Bless my soul ! He had never thought of that ! 

“She drove them away to spite us and prove 
that she only cares for him.” 

Mr. Willoughby was startled now. Mrs. 
Thurston assumed a tragic air and spoke as one 
laboring under keen disappointment. 

“Oh, my friend, it has gone too far ! She cares 
more for him than we imagined. She is only act- 
ing a part with the others, and is carrying herself 
in this reckless fashion to defy everybody who 


126 


SAINT MAMMON 


comes between her and this wretched man. She 
is going to show him now that she cares for nobody 
else.” 

Mrs. Thurston fairly collapsed, and she seemed 
on the point of crying with vexation. 

“Trust me,” she added; “I am a woman and I 
know my sex. She is wilful because she loves 
him.” 

Mr. Willoughby caught the alarm now. His 
face looked very blank, and he broke out into a 
cold perspiration. 

“Bless my soul I This is awful!” 

“Listen to me,” Mrs. Thurston began again. 
“I love your niece like my own daughter. Haven’t 
the two grown up together like sisters?” 

Mr. Willoughby bowed assent. He was pro- 
foundly grateful to Mrs. Thurston for the inter- 
est she had always taken in Madge. 

“I am foster-mother to her. I have shielded 
her in the past, and I will shield her now.” 

Mr. Willoughby felt relieved. She was going 
to do something after all. Perhaps he might find 
a chance to shirk all responsibility himself and put 
Madge in her charge. Trust him to think of him- 
self in an emergency! 

“That man shall never have her! Never!” 
Mrs. Thurston cried. “I will thwart him yet!” 

She stamped her foot as she spoke, and she 
looked the defiant Amazon. 

Mr. Willoughby nodded approval that was in- 
audible applause. He had decided already that 


SAINT MAMMON 


12 7 


young men were dangerous fellows. He had not 
realized until Mrs. Thurston made him do so, how 
poor an opinion he always had of them. They 
were very dangerous, very! 

‘‘What do you think that man had the audacity 
to do? He actually danced with my daughter 
right before my eyes. I took pains to treat him 
in such a way he won’t approach her again, 
though.” 

Mrs. Thurston spoke in accents of wrath, and 
Mr. Willoughby nodded approval again. She had 
quite convinced him, and besides, she was going 
to do something. 

“Now, your duty in the case is ” 

Mr. Willoughby’s spirits fell. She was going 
to make him do something after all. 

“You must defeat your niece on her own ground. 
If she keeps the young men away from your house, 
you must take her where they are. You must go 
to the club yourself, and you must invite them to 
call on you.” 

This was all she had to tell him, it seemed. Mr. 
Willoughby could not conceal his chagrin because 
she was not going to do anything more for him. 


CHAPTER XI 


Therefore it befell one afternoon a few days 
later, that the exiles of the Mercury Club were 
surprised to receive a visit from Mr. Willoughby, 
accompanied by Madge and Jack Allers. 

As this was the first time he had honored them, 
although he permitted his name to be placed on 
the membership roll, several of them began to 
consider whether they ought not to be polite to 
him; and doubtless they would have paid some at- 
tention to his party if it had not been under the 
escort of Jack Allers. 

Fortunately, they were all in good spirits. Dick 
Twaddleby had been holding forth in his most 
facetious fashion on a subject that even philosophers 
could appreciate. The new-woman craze had 
struck Heathdale, and a club was being formed to 
discuss topics beyond the masculine ken. Richard 
was hitting it off in fine shape. 

“I don’t know what this new woman is driving 
at, and I don’t believe she does herself,” he was 
saying. “The fair sex have been leading men 
around by the nose all these centuries, and they are 
not satisfied yet. Well, women have been going 
in for beauty for so long, it may not be a bad idea 

128 


SAINT MAMMON 


129 


if they go in for a little brains. If there is any- 
thing wrong about their position in America, the 
men are not to blame, though. The fair sex have 
been given the right of way in this country to make 
themselves anything they choose. But these new 
women are awful creatures; they put on a man’s 
collar and a man’s necktie and think themselves 
just too devilish for anything. It makes a man 
smile to see how devilish they can be.” 

“Right you are, Richard,” Stacey Mansfield said, 
without looking up from the billiard balls. 

“One thing is certain, though,” this wag went on. 
“Matrimony has got to suffer by it. These clever 
maidens can’t fall in love when they discover how 
ordinary the lords of creation are ; and won’t they 
rage when they realize how the sterner sex has 
been fooling them all these years! But speaking 
about emancipation, I can tell them the men need 
that more than they do themselves. If we could 
only get emancipated from the spell beauty has 
put upon us we would perform miracles. As it 
is, just as we are about to attempt something great 
and startling, a pretty face looms up on the view 
and spoils everything.” 

“Right you are, Richard,” Stacey Mansfield 
said again. 

“How about the new heiress?” Charley Poin- 
dexter asked, without turning away from his view. 

Richard sighed. 

“She will be the same as ever, dear boy — just 
as hard to please and just as hard to get.” 


SAINT MAMMON 


! i3° 

Why was it now that a sudden damper seemed 
to fall on the spirits of these philosophers when 
the Willoughby party entered? Mr. Willoughby 
felt it, although he had prepared himself not to 
notice it. He had promised Mrs. Thurston to be 
on his best manner, and he certainly tried to be. 
Not that he had any great faith in her plan; but 
having placed himself in her hands he felt bound 
to do as she directed. If he failed, there was the 
more reason why he should expect her to do some- 
thing. 

Besides, these young men amused him. They 
were so ingenuous. Their minds had not developed 
to the ambitions of a professionally-fashionable 
career. They did not pine for the favor of Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones, and did not know the dread of 
passing out of her memory. Really, it was re- 
freshing to contemplate such good-natured sim- 
plicity ! 

However, these young innocents did not respond 
to him at all, and he concluded that an affected air 
of indifference toward visitors was part of club 
principles. He was perfectly sure that young 
people in his boyhood were not brought up to have 
such ideas. Ideas! They were not taught to 
have any at all, but were content to accept their 
family tradition and follow it. 

He noted that his niece was equally indifferent 
to the young men, but he was prepared for this. 
She was Mistress Willoughby of Willoughby 
Manor now to those with whom she had been so 


SAINT MAMMON 


131 

'friendly, although she gave close attention to Jack 
Allers and everything he said. Well, if she must 
have admirers, Jack Allers was about as harmless 
a one as she could have, her uncle thought. 

No doubt it would have surprised Mr. Will- 
oughby greatly if he could have known what a sen- 
sation his visit was creating; but the exiles were 
too gamey to let him see it. He did notice, how- 
ever, that the young man at the billiard table eyed 
them very hard for an instant, and then went back 
to his game. Another one appeared to be ab- 
sorbed in the scenery, and he did not even take the 
trouble to turn away from the window out of 
which he was studying it. Mr. Willoughby could 
sympathize with him because he, too, appreciated 
the fine views about Heathdale. 

Once he suspected that Madge was amused about 
something; but what it was he could not for the life 
of him make out. He had no cue to go by in her 
case, and decided that young people were very ec- 
centric nowadays, anyhow. 

But how astounded he would have been if he 
could have witnessed the change which came over 
the exiles the moment he departed. A sigh went 
around that room, until they had all sighed singly 
and together, except Jockey Van Hurdle, who did 
not give way to emotion under any circumstances. 
Horses don’t betray themselves. 

Dick Twaddleby was the first to recover. He 
was too frank to attempt to conceal anything from 


132 


SAINT MAMMON 


motives of false delicacy, so he spoke out his mind 
with his usual bluntness. 

“It’s up to us now!” he said. “That girl has 
balked the game and is too clever for us. We took 
her for an easy mark, and she has beaten us on our 
own ground. Indifference doesn’t go any more.” 

“She is a thoroughbred, Richard,” Jockey Van 
Hurdle declared, drawing his figure of speech from 
the turf as usual. “She is one of the flyers, and will 
win in a handicap.” 

“She can fool a man better than any maiden I 
ever met,” Dick continued. “She is so artless, so 
simple, so unsophisticated, a fellow walks right 
into her little traps before he knows where he is 
at. You don’t have to entertain her — she enter- 
tains you, and she understands the art of making 
you unburden yourself in an unguarded moment. 
I think she is dangerous, and would get a man in 
the toils ere he was aware of it. She would be a 
hard woman to convince you love her, and she 
would lead a fellow a dance if he tried to tell 
her so. Well, that’s the advantage the fair sex 
have, anyhow. The men are generally the ones to 
act the fool in a love affair.” 

“Right you are, Richard!” Stacey Mansfield 
said, in almost tragic tones, as he manipulated the 
billiard balls. 

All the exiles took this edifying conversation 
home to themselves. 

“The fact is, all women ought to look alike, 
and all ought to be equally pretty,” Richard de- 


SAINT MAMMON 


i33 


dared, speaking rather cynically for him. “Then 
men would be saved the folly of falling in love 
with them, and matches could be arranged on the 
dollar and cents basis to suit the spirit of this 
mercenary age. There isn’t any sentiment nowa- 
days. In the good old times the poets write about, 
things were different. They believed in romances 
and sentiment had a chance for itself. The world 
was not as big as it is now, and tastes were purer. 
I think if I had lived in those times I could have 
accomplished something.” 

“Yes,” Charley Poindexter added, falling into 
the spirit of Richard’s mood at once; “yes, in those 
simple days heiresses could be had for the asking.” 

Richard sighed at this and became pensive, and 
now nothing was heard throughout the cloistered 
halls of the Mercury Club but the clicking of the 
billiard balls, as Stacey Mansfield busied himself 
with them. 

Meanwhile, the Willoughby party had departed, 
still under the escort of Jack Allers. He had 
shown them all over the place and pointed out the 
boat-house and golf-links. He was so nice that 
Mr. Willoughby pressed him to go home to dinner, 
and Jack accepted the invitation with alacrity. The 
object of the visit had not miscarried altogether, 
Mr. Willoughby decided, now that he had Jack 
Allers in tow, and of all men he might choose to 
distract Madge’s thoughts from Hamilton Blood- 
good, this one was the most harmless. 

By this time night had set in, and Charley Poin- 


134 


SAINT MAMMON 


dexter’s vigil was ended for the day. It was his 
custom to watch that view of his until darkness fell 
upon it, and he was always reluctant to part with 
it. He started for the grill-room now to refresh 
the inner man. 

Many of the crowd were hurrying in the same 
direction. Cocktails began to be in demand all 
at once, and the artist who mixed fancy decoc- 
tions for the thirsty was very busy. 

Groups of exiles flitted in and out of the room 
where Stacey Mansfield played on stolidly, and the 
conversation dragged along by fits and starts, keep- 
ing company to the click of the billiard balls. 

Somebody got up an argument, the gist of which 
was that the time is not far distant when the great 
American people would appreciate bad form. Some- 
body else remembered how a friend of his had won 
a maiden by abusing a rival for whom she really 
cared. He kept on telling lies about him, until 
the innocent creature believed them, and threw the 
other man over. From this it was inferred that 
there is more to the old saying, “Everything fair 
in love,” than appears at first glance. 

“Girl was not a woman, though,” was Stacey’s 
comment on the above. 

This remark went unchallenged, because it was 
understood when Stacey had his intellect down to 
billiard balls he did not commit himself to rash 
statements. 

Freddy Dissosway had an adventure once with 
a young lady up in the country, and had not 


SAINT MAMMON 


i35 


ceased to talk about it yet. He was telling the 
story now for the benefit of certain friends who 
had not heard it more than a score of times al- 
ready. 

“She was the strangest creature I ever saw,” he 
began. 

“I am afraid you don’t use the looking-glass as 
much as I thought, Freddy,” one friend interposed; 
but the young Lothario ignored him. 

“I really think she was fond of me. She was 
awfully clever, too. She used to quote poetry and 
say the brightest things. She even wanted to walk 
with me at night without a chaperone, by Jove !” 

“You’re harmless, Freddy.” 

“She used to roll up her eyes at the moon and 
say, ‘Oh, this is heavenly!’ and quote more poetry. 
I really think she wanted me to propose.” 

“A simple child of nature,” was the comment of 
the audience. 

This was in substance the tale, about which 
Freddy sought to throw an air of romance, and he 
was even suspected of trying to make a tragedy 
out of it. i 

At this point Stacey Mansfield called out from 
the billiard-table: 

“Poindexter, I go you I make this shot.” 

Charley Poindexter was gazing at himself in a 
large mirror that hung near his window, having 
digested a bird and bottle in the grill-room a few 
minutes before. There was a slight frown on his 
face, indicating that the subject was hardly pleas- 


SAINT MAMMON 


136 

ing; but he must have something to stare at, and 
now the sun was down he knew of nothing else. 

At Stacey’s words he turned toward the billiard- 
table, and took a survey of the field. 

“I won’t take you,” he said at length, and went 
back to the mirror. 

Whereupon billiards ceased to have further at- 
tractions for Stacey. 

It seemed as if the culminating point of bore- 
dom had been reached at last; but fortunately there 
were some old fogies in the club, who could be 
relied upon to furnish amusement to the younger 
members at times. These old chaps were con- 
stantly wrangling among themselves about chairs 
and small points of precedence, and they liked to 
prate about the celebrated beauties of their youth, 
and the gay life that prevailed over a score of years 
ago. Then they would shake their old heads and 
scowl at the youngsters, whose conceit and foppery 
offended them. 

One of their number, who went by the name of 
“Methuselah,” was the butt of many witticisms. 
He told the same stories about the same persons, 
and was very tenacious of his own opinion. He 
was as irascible as he was stubborn and was dead 
against every measure looking to the good of the 
club. He had been one of the first members to 
join, and it was on record that he had blackballed 
everybody who came in after him. It was under^ 
stood, however, that his veto did not count. 

Young Quizzledown was the lad to pit against 


SAINT MAMMON 


137 

him in a discussion of any kind. He knew how to 
draw the old fellow out, and had a clever way of 
quoting back his own statements to him so that he 
would repudiate them in great scorn. 

The exiles liked nothing better than to start 
these two; when the dispute ran high, and Methu- 
selah was denying what he said the day before, they 
were ready to come forward as witnesses and take 
oath to these same statements. They agreed to a 
man; but so pig-headed had their victim become 
that he would reject their evidence in toto. 

Consequently, it was something of a relief whe** 
Quizzledown appeared in the billiard-room to an- 
nounce that he had got the old patriarch started 
again. 

“Methuselah is on the Monroe Doctrine, fel- 
lows!” he remarked, as he lit a cigarette. 

“He was on that yesterday,” Stacey Mansfield 
demurred. 

“Yes, but he is arguing against it now and yes- 
terday he was for it!” 

“What’s that?” 

“He is denying everything he said last night, 
and swears the Monroe Doctrine will be the ruin 
of the country.” 

Hereupon, Stacey deliberately put up his cue, 
deliberately put on his coat, and followed the crowd 
with the intention of witnessing the sport. Sud- 
denly, however, he remembered that he had not 
dined yet, and turned aside to the grill-room. 

But the others followed Quizzledown into the 


SAINT MAMMON 


138 

library, where Methuselah was holding forth. 
They entered by twos and threes, arranging them- 
selves in listless attitudes, so as not to interrupt 
the orator. One of them took up a paper, another 
pretended to be deep in a book, but none of them 
lost a word of what was going forward. 

Methuselah was having “brainstorms,” and was 
knocking his own arguments of the day before into 
smithereens. 


BOOK III 


CHAPTER I 

It may be a subject worthy of the learned to 
determine just what the influence of free institu- 
tions has been on the feminine character, and 
doubtless the opponents of the American system 
would insist on having a hearing ere a decision is 
reached. There are those who argue that the men 
of America have freed themselves from every kind 
of despotism, and have then bowed down to the 
tyranny of the petticoat. The man American, they 
tell us, is a very chicken-hearted creature when it 
comes to his womankind. Ever since Bunker Hill 
was fought he has been most unmercifully hen- 
pecked. But for that matter beauty has reigned 
ever since humanity was created, and will reign so 
long as humanity exists. It will be petted and 
spoiled, because it is feminine and thrives on such 
treatment. A woman, my masters, and therefore 
to be indulged. Pouting, smiling, inconsistent, a 
woman still! Who shall interpret her fancies? 
Who shall unravel her moods? Who can look 
down into her heart and note every impulse that 
has swayed it, since she became a helpmate to man? 

139 


140 


SAINT MAMMON 


We have had the pious woman, whose innocence 
shines forth from her Madonna-like countenance, 
and great painters have immortalized her. Now 
we appear to be worshipping something more car- 
nal, something that stands for the extreme of femi- 
nine wilfulness, and as yet there are no protests 
against such idolatry. Angels of heaven, and 
demons of hell — both, women have been — but who 
can tell the reason for it? Only the God that 
made her, and not a weak mortal like herself. 

But now that we are in a moralizing mood, it 
might be well to ask ourselves what becomes of the 
beings that pass out of the memory of Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones. Do they in their despair make away 
with themselves? Do they 

On second thought, however, the theme is too 
harrowing, and we had best return to our tale 
without further parleying. 

Dick Twaddleby declared that Madge was the 
most successful flirt he had ever run up against. 
He confessed, too, that he had been beaten at his 
own game, and Richard prided himself that he was 
a match for any woman, when he brought his tac- 
tics to bear on her. 

One day he caught himself pouring his prettiest 
compliments into her ear, and saying things to 
her that he was not sure whether he meant them 
or not. Hang the girl! She almost made him 
propose to her. He admitted afterwards he was 
on the point of telling her he loved her. For 
ever since her visit to the club, social relations had 


SAINT MAMMON 


141 

been re-established between Madge and the exiles, 
so that they saw much of her now. 

“It would have been bad form if you had, 
Richard,” was Charley Poindexter’s comment on 
this. 

“You wouldn’t have jarred her, though! That 
girl is game,” Jockey Van Hurdle remarked; when- 
ever he expressed an opinion like this he did so 
with the air of a man who is willing to put up 
money on his judgment. 

“Well, it takes quite a lad to handle an up-to- 
date girl, anyhow!” Richard added consolingly/ 
“Chumps need not apply.” 

“Chumps don't get the heiresses, Richard,” Poin- 
dexter said, and Dick sighed assent to this. 

It was the unanimous opinion of the exiles now 
that Hamilton Bloodgood was done for, and they 
comforted themselves with the reflection that they 
had told him what to do. 

“Hammy won’t even make place,” was Jockey 
Van Hurdle’s way of putting it. 

Jockey was not a fool and knew when his horse 
had been beaten before the home-stretch was 
reached. 

Mrs. Thurston also was satisfied that the danger 
she had feared was imaginary. 

“We were mistaken,” she said to Mr. Willough- 
by, much to his relief. Dogs were the only thing 
he had feared all along. 

“The girl is not deceiving us, as we thought. 
She is not pining for Mr. Bloodgood and there is 


142 


SAINT MAMMON 


still hope. I have sounded Lillian about the 
matter. I can trust her implicitly.” 

We indeed! Mr. Willoughby could not help 
thinking; for barring dogs he had been neutral all 
along. 

He had about decided it was high time for him 
to protect himself against her energy. The next 
thing he knew she would be interfering with his 
nap after dinner. He was perfectly willing she 
should run things to suit herself, provided she ar- 
range it so that he could shirk responsibility; but 
when it came to making him do things, the limit 
had been reached. It was all very well for her 
to talk about her anxiety in this case. Mr. Will- 
oughby could tell her of some things he was bear- 
ing on his own account. He could unfold a tale 
of woe that would make her burdens seem trivial 
indeed. Bless my soul ! What was he not enduring 
every hour of his life? What guarantee did he 
have even now that he had not passed out of the 
memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones? If he were 
like some people he might grow morbid thinking 
about this. He might assume that he was the most 
unfortunate of men, cut off as he was from society, 
his genius suppressed at the very time it was pre- 
pared to assert itself. It was all very well to 
dream away life in Heathdale if a man had not 
learned to aspire to a_ professionally-fashionable 
career. 

As to his family — a fine return he was getting 
for his loyalty to it! If anything, it was a hard- 


SAINT MAMMON 


i43 

ship to him even now. Hadn’t his sister, Mrs. 
Wadham Adams, ruined his chances once? Yes, 
bless my soul, if she had her way he would have 
passed out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 
long ago ! 

Mrs. Thurston saw that he could not be relied 
upon to go a step further in this matter, and she 
must act without his backing now. She let him 
pour out his objections to deaf ears, while she 
turned over in her own mind her future course of 
action. She would beat that man at any cost; 
single-handed, if need be. 

There is no telling what a woman is capable of 
doing when she has put her whole heart into a 
matter of this kind, as Mrs. Thurston had. She 
was not lacking in intrigue; nevertheless, her very 
next move was a blunder. 

Now there was a certain widower in Heathdale, 
old enough to be Madge’s father, who chose to 
devote himself to her in spite of the disparity in 
years between them. Somebody, and it was not 
Shakespeare, although he said everything else, de- 
clared that there is no fool like an old fool, and 
this Mr. Delaney Billop was no exception to the 
rule. Not satisfied with the fact that the exiles 
were beginning to call again, Mrs. Thurston gave 
Mr. Billop encouragement to press his suit, doubt- 
less arguing that any lover was preferable to an 
objectionable one. 

Although the affair never got very serious, 
Madge was somewhat annoyed by his attentions, 


144 


SAINT MAMMON, 


even while she managed to ignore them. Trust a 
flirt to be equal to an emergency. Sometimes she 
got amusement out of him, and sometimes she lost 
patience because he was so stupid about taking a 
hint — a weakness no flirt is inclined to overlook. 

It chanced that the murder came out one even- 
ing while a number of the exiles were calling, for 
of course young men so clever could not be alto- 
gether blind to what was going on right under their 
noses. It had long been an accepted theory of 
theirs that when a maiden has a chance to marry 
an old chap with one foot in the grave and a large 
bank account in the bargain, the certainty of being 
left a rich young widow on an appreciative world is 
too much for her. 

However, in the application of all rules there 
are exceptions, and this case they decided was one 
of them, and governed themselves according- 
ly. They displayed a willingness to fly to her 
rescue and flirt with her, that was very generous 
considering how they had been acting for the last 
few days. Even Dick Twaddleby forgot how the 
girl had come near betraying him into an act of 
bad form, and Charley Poindexter could not have 
been more roused if somebody had tried to appro- 
priate his view. The old party showed jealousy, 
which was unpardonable in their eyes — horribly 
bad form in fact — and only caused them to redouble 
their efforts to annoy him. 

Dick Twaddleby, who had an eye for observ- 


SAINT MAMMON 


i45 

ing things, made note of Mrs. Thurston’s conduct 
this evening, and it puzzled him. 

“I wonder what she is driving at?” he remarked, 
after the exiles had returned to the club-house and 
were discussing the situation over a little warm 
bird and a big cold bottle. “She carries her fierce 
pursuit of men too far, and she is trying to marry 
that girl to the old chump. I can tell her it is no 
go.” 

“He’s got ancestors, Richard,” Poindexter said 
drily. 

Dick shook his head. 

“The girl isn’t marrying a graveyard.” 

“A pedigree isn’t a bad thing, my boy,” Jockey 
Van Hurdle interposed, thinking about horses as 
usual. 

“That’s on the other side of the pond,” Dick 
objected. “They are trying to cling to ancestors 
over there, even though they have to carry their 
country into the grave to do so; but in America 
many people are trying to forget theirs.” 

“Heiresses don’t always have them, Richard,” 
Charley Poindexter remarked absently. 

“On the contrary, dear boy, their papas are apt 
to be decidedly recent, and it is only on account of 
their dollars that a man is inclined to accept them 
at all,” Richard assented cheerfully. 

“Right you are, Richard!” Stacey Mansfield’ 
echoed, by mere force of habit. 

Stacey’s intellect was not down to billiard balls 


SAINT MAMMON 


146 

at this moment, but he was discussing a roast bird 
with great relish. 

“I tell you this sighing for a maiden doesn’t go 
nowadays,” this knowing wag went on. “Up-to- 
date love-making is against it.” 

“It is horribly bad form, Richard,” Charley 
Poindexter admitted with a yawn. 

“Matrimony is simply a question of class, any- 
how,” Dick said. “If a man is in a girl’s class he 
can get her all right. If not, he is a fool to try.” 

“The paths of matrimony lead but to the divorce 
courts,” Charley Poindexter murmured at this 
point. 

Poindexter was sitting near a window gazing 
out into the darkness with a wistful look on his 
face. He missed that view of his more than he 
cared to show. It had been such a comfort to him 
in exile all these years, and the contemplation of 
its beauties tended to render his banishment from 
town endurable. How often had he thrilled in 
his very heart’s core to discover in it some new 
feature before unnoticed, and when anybody else 
criticised it he drank in their words with delight. 
That view meant happiness to him, and it kept him 
in health and spirits. Now that he could not 
study it until the following afternoon he was tell- 
ing himself the best thing he could do would be to 
go to bed. But evidently Dick Twaddleby was 
in a moralizing mood still and in no hurry to move. 

“The Lord must have committed a blunder when 
He created some men,” Richard had started to 


SAINT MAMMON 


i47 


say. “He ought to have made a substitute for 
women at the same time. The real article is too 
much for certain of our sex.” 

Stacey Mansfield hastened to endorse this senti- 
ment. Indeed, so great was the affinity between 
these two intellects that every time Dick opened his 
mouth Stacey went sponsor for his utterances. 

It looked as if Richard would keep on talking 
all night unless something happened to check the 
flow of his ideas. So Poindexter put a damper 
on him by suggesting that it was past bed-time al- 
ready, and the party broke up at once. 

Perhaps these philosophers were not altogether 
wrong in their summary of the situation as it re- 
lated to Madge, and Mrs. Thurston should have 
known enough to change her tactics, lest she drive 
her victim to the very man she sought to protect 
her from. It is a well-known fact that sensible 
members of the sex have been made to do rash 
things by such injudicious opposition. 

It was within the bounds of probability that 
Madge should accept Hamilton Bloodgood, if she 
had her way unopposed. Be that as it may, the 
exiles had proved to her that this Mr. Billop was 
not even to be considered as a rival, and the next 
time his name was mentioned in the presence of 
Charley Poindexter, “Don’t know him,” Poindexter 
hastened to say, in a tone that implied he did not 
wish to. But some people are very thick-headed, 
and Mrs. Thurston may have thought she was 
doing a clever thing. 


SAINT MAMMON 


148 

But now a new factor appeared upon the scene, 
ere affairs could reach a climax. One day Tom 
Allers called on Mr. Willoughby with a request 
that Madge be allowed to spend a few weeks with 
his wife, and Mr. Willoughby was inclined to ac- 
cept for his own reasons. In the first place he 
would have the girl off his hands while she was in 
Mrs. Tom’s charge, and he would also be rid of 
Mrs. Thurston’s rule, which was becoming intoler- 
able. 

Tom Allers was very civil on this occasion. 

“We admire Madge very much, Mr. Willough- 
by,” he said. “My wife thinks her the finest girl 
she ever met.” 

Mrs. Allers was very kind, and her good opinion 
was appreciated. Mr. Willoughby spoke for him- 
self and his niece. 

“I think it will be a good thing for my wife to 
have her with us, and I hope she will enjoy the 
visit, also. We will try to take good care of her, 
and she has nothing to fear from me and my 
brother Jack.” 

Mr. Willoughby smiled slightly at this remark, 
which was intended to be facetious — and perhaps it 
was more so than Tom Allers imagined; for, of all 
young men likely to be considered harmless, Jack 
Allers was the most conspicuous one in Mr. Roose- 
velt Willoughby’s opinion. 

• Therefore, he gave his consent without further 
parleying. 

It was a relief to him to get rid of Madge at 


SAINT MAMMON 


149 

this time. He was in correspondence with Mrs. 
Humphrey Provost about a matter of great im- 
portance to his future, and he did not wish to be 
bothered by other things. The two were forming 
plans that meant much to them both, and Mr. Will- 
oughby had almost persuaded himself that his op- 
portunity to embark on a fashionable career was 
coming through her efforts. 

Prudence had learned that her husband was 
planning a trip to Europe with a yachting party, 
and would be absent a long time. Her sister-in- 
law, Mrs. Saltearth, was also preparing to go 
abroad early in the fall. Therefore she was de- 
termined to invade New York after the coast was 
clear and was consulting Mr. Willoughby about 
certain plans she had formed for the next season 
in town. In more than one of these letters, too, 
she sought his sympathy, on account of the troubles 
her husband had caused her. 

“Why doesn’t the little beast drink himself to 
death?” Prudence wrote. “What a nice position 
I might have as his widow, if he only would! 
Black becomes me, anyhow. I could make up with 
my charming sister-in-law by shedding a few be- 
coming tears over his demise. I would observe 
all the proper rules of mourning, so that every- 
body would be impressed by my decorous conduct. 
And widows are popular nowadays. But the little 
beast won’t die. He will live on to spite me. His 
drinking bouts would kill any other ten men in a 
year.” 


150 


SAINT MAMMON - 


But Prudence had nobody to reproach for her 
marriage except herself. She knew what her hus- 
band was before she accepted him. She was lured 
by the position of his family in society, and she 
took him in cold blood. 

Must we censure her for this? Alas, those 
who set up a puritanical code to judge modern 
society will find that they are preaching to empty 
benches ! According to the standard of Mammon 
a woman may marry without any thought of the 
duties of wifehood, just to advance her interests. 
Neither does this kind of a bargain excite com- 
ment, because it occurs every day. O mockery of 
Hymen ! we have been tempted to cry when we 
behold maidens offered up to this modern chimera 
— wealth, with all the pomp of a marriage cere- 
mony. But the victims go to their fates with smil- 
ing faces, while fashion looks on and applauds. 
They bind themselves with golden chains, and 
seem to take delight in jingling these before their 
friends. 

The Cupid of the Money Bags is popular in 
society. 


CHAPTER II 


The poor estimate that Mr. Willoughby had 
formed of Jack Allers dated from the time of their 
first meeting. Mrs. Tom brought Jack to Will- 
oughby Manor soon after he had come to live 
with her, he being fresh from a cattle ranch in 
Texas. 

Mr. Willoughby was not impressed with him 
from the first. He had acquired such rough man- 
ners from the cowboy life he had been leading 
for a number of years. If the limelight of Eastern 
culture were turned on him at once it would reveal 
a rare specimen of humanity on which to test its 
standards. With this reflection in mind Mr. 
Willoughby approached his visitor cautiously. 

He remembered that Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller 
had a son in Texas. Perhaps Mr. Allers had met 
him. 

No; Texas is a large State. One man is easily 
lost in it. 

Mr. Willoughby was not impressed with Jack’s 
blunt manner of saying this. But he decided to 
give him another chance. 

Mr. Allers had lived in Boston once. Had he 
ever met the Toplofters? 


152 


SAINT MAMMON 


No; he had never heard of them even. 

Then Mr. Willoughby gave him up. He had 
a feeling for him that was akin to pity, and re- 
garded him as little better than an untutored 
savage. 

Therefore he smiled when Tom Allers made 
the remark already referred to. He had had his 
eyes opened of late to the wiles of young men, but 
just fancy being worried about one who probably 
did not know there was such a person in the world 
as Mrs. Snubbody-Jones ! 

The Allerses were connections of Mr. Willough- 
by. Tom’s mother and he were cousins, but her 
marriage had been opposed by the family, and for 
years this branch of it had been forgotten, until 
Tom appeared in Heathdale to remind him of 
its existence. He welcomed this relative and his 
wife to the place and let it be known that he coun- 
tenanced them as his kinsfolk, and would have 
been willing to introduce them to his friends 
as such. But Mrs. Tom Allers showed a disposi- 
tion to shift for herself, and soon knew more 
people than Mr. Willoughby had dreamed there 
were in the entire community. 

He also interested himself in their welfare to 
the extent of inviting them to dinner occasionally, 
and encouraged them to make his house their home 
whenever they felt lonely. As it turned out, Mrs. 
Tom did choose to avail herself of this last invi- 
tation. She took a liking to his sister, the invalid, 
and when Mrs. Tom Allers took a fancy to any 


SAINT MAMMON 


*53 


one she was sure to let them know it. She was a 
warm-hearted, impulsive woman, very unconven- 
tional in her manners, and very genuine in her 
affections. 

Soon she had made herself talked about in 
Heathdale in a way that would have hurt anybody 
else. She went everywhere and met everybody, 
and could do things with impunity that would call 
forth the severest criticism in others — things that 
nobody but Mrs. Tom Allers would dare do. 
There was an individuality about her that excused 
her acts. 

She used to aver that she had seen trouble her- 
self and could sympathize with others in conse- 
quence. At one time in her life she had been 
forced to live in a boarding-house and was be- 
moaning the fact even now. She declared she 
could not understand how she managed to survive 
it. She was ready to give -up time and again, and 
would have done so if it had not been for Tom. 
He it was who kept her cheerful during this trying 
period, because he was so good-natured himself 
and took everything so easily, just like an Allers, 
anyhow ! 

“I have seen that man, Madge,” she said of a 
person who has already been introduced to the 
reader, “when he had not a dollar in his pocket, 
and, do you know, he only joked about it!” 

“And what did you do?” 

“Me! Oh, dear, I was just ready to give up!” 


SAINT MAMMON 


154 

But Tom’s good nature was not always so agree- 
able to his wife. On the contrary, it aggravated 
her at times because he was so easy-going. Wasn’t 
it tantalizing of him to sit there smoking his cigar 
as complacently as you please, oblivious of her trials 
and annoyances? Oh, well, so much for being 
good-natured! She was glad she was not, be- 
cause if she were they would never get along 
together. There was one comfort, however. Tom 
was poor, else she would not tolerate him. 

All this is what she told Madge, when the latter 
had come to live with her, and the two were getting 
intimate. 

Neither was Tom the only source of her troubles. 
His brother Jack was even more of a cross to her. 
She gave up the moment she laid eyes on him. A 
regular Allers all over! Too good-natured to 
live ! 

“I tell you, Madge, the Allers family were born 
to be poor and be run over. I have to give my 
husband a shaking up once in a while. If I did 
not he would never get along at all.” 

Tom Allers himself was within hearing of this 
philippic which his better-half was launching against 
him. He was quietly smoking a cigar on the porch, 
but it is doubtful whether he was contemplating a 
divorce in consequence. Not a sound came from 
him by way of protest, but presently little rings of 
smoke sailed gracefully through the open window 
into the room. 


SAINT MAMMON 


155 

“Do you know I am abusing you, dearie?” his 
wife called out. 

“Yes, love!” and more rings were wafted into 
the room on the gentle zephyrs that blew from 
without. 

“Oh, dear! Madge, what would you do with 
such a man if you were in my place?” 

“I think I would let him have his way.” 

“Horrors! I couldn’t do that! It would 
drive me to the verge of distraction !” 

Another succession of smoke rings came in 
through the window at this. 

“Tom Allers, stop that at once!” 

“All right, love, but I am only smoking my 
cigar.” 

“You are not! You are just trying to tease 
me! I shall be furious if you do it again!” 

At this threat the smoke rings ceased to appear. 

“Oh, how I dislike these practical people! If 
they had their way the world would be square 
instead of round.” 

Mrs. Tom was busy with some sewing for a 
poor woman in whom she had interested herself, 
and she plied her needle busily as she spoke. 

“Madge, never marry a good-natured man. He 
will drive you crazy if you do.” 

“How so?” Madge asked innocently. 

“Oh, dear! Tom told me I was foolish to try 
to help this poor woman because she would want 
me to do so much for her, and now it makes me 
furious to think it has turned out just as he said,” 


SAINT MAMMON 


1 56 

Another succession of smoke rings came pour- 
ing into the room at this. 

Mrs. Tom sprang from her chair in a rage, and 
the window went down with a bang. 


CHAPTER III 


Thus it had come to pass that Madge found 
herself living with these relatives and being treated 
like one of the family. Mrs. Tom soon let her 
know that she had taken a liking to her and looked 
upon her as a sister. If Mrs. Tom disliked any- 
body she would be equally frank about telling 
them so. 

Madge, for her part, responded to this display 
of friendship. For she in turn liked Mrs. Tom 
Allers the more she saw of her. She even excused 
her eccentricities of temperament, as only friendship 
is able to do; and Mrs. Tom Allers had to be 
understood in order to be appreciated. 

Madge discovered one day that she was a very 
courageous woman, beyond the average of her sex. 
She used to keep the windows open of a warm 
night so that the house might be aired. When 
asked if she were not afraid of burglars she grew 
indignant at the thought. 

Burglars, indeed! If a burglar entered Mrs. 
Tom Allers’ house she would throw him out of it, 
and then hand him over to the police. Both Tom 
and Jack offered to vouch for this statement, and 
Tom told a story to prove it. 

x 57 


SAINT MAMMON 


158 

When they were first married they set up house- 
keeping in a modest little town, and in a neighbor- 
hood quite lonely, Mrs. Tom declaring that she 
had gotten through with boarding-houses, and 
would not live in the best of them. One night 
Tom came home very late when he had expected 
to be away altogether, and it occurred to him it 
would be a good idea to play a joke on his wife. 
Disguising his voice, he began to mutter, as if he 
were several burglars approaching to carry off the 
property. Instead of fainting Mrs. Tom grabbed 
a revolver and started for him, and if he had not 
called out quickly to let her know who he was, 
she would have shot him on the spot. 

Mrs. Tom kept house, too, after her own 
fashion. It fairly took Madge’s breath to witness 
the rapidity with which she dusted the parlor. 
Chairs were sent aflying through the air, and the 
room seemed to be full of feather-dusters. Before 
Madge grasped the situation, Mrs. Tom, with a 
triumphant “There, that’s done!” sat down to re- 
cover herself before starting in on the library. 

She had an old servant who had been in the 
family for years, and had been nurse to her when 
she was a baby. This old creature considered her- 
self housekeeper-in-chief, and did not hesitate to 
scold her mistress. But to do her justice, Mrs. 
Tom did things that no sane domestic would 
tolerate. 

She cooked dishes according to her own notions 
and whenever the fit took her, and Tom was al- 


SAINT MAMMON 


159 


ways expected to eat them, which he did good- 
naturedly and just like an Allers. She explained 
many of them to Madge, but the recipe is hardly 
worth publishing. 

Everything went off with a whirl in Mrs. Tom’s 
house. She declared time and again that she was 
an energetic character and she was glad of it. It 
made her furious to see people poke, anyhow. 

She dragged Madge into the kitchen one after- 
noon to show her how to make biscuit, and the 
lesson was not lost on her pupil. 

“Mollie, I am going to make biscuit 1” she an- 
nounced, bursting in on the old domestic, with a 
big apron on and her sleeves rolled up over her 
fine elbows. 

“You’re not!” old Mollie cried, in wrathful, 
Hibernian accents. “Get along wid yer blarney! 
Youse couldn’t cook fur a haythen !” 

But Mrs. Tom dived into a flour barrel in a 
twinkling, and soon had old Mollie laughing till 
her sides ached. The flour was mixed and stirred 
and thrown into pans and set to rise, before the old 
soul could recover from her spasms. Then Mrs. 
Tom pulled her apron off and rolled down her 
sleeves. 

“There!” she cried. “I am sure Tom will like 
them!” 

“Oh, ho!” laughed old Mollie. “You’ll be the 
death of us yet! It’s a sin to ask a Christian to 
eat such stuff!” 


160 SAINT MAMMON 

But again Mrs. Tom declared that Tom would 
eat them ; she knew he would. 

“Do you know, Madge, I once made a pie as 
heavy as lead just to try him, and that aggravating 
man ate a slice of it without saying a word.” 

Sure enough, too, Tom ate three of those biscuits 
for dinner that evening, and afterwards digested 
them over a cigar. 

There must have been something about Mrs. 
Tom’s personality that made it impossible to take 
offense at anything she said. She took Madge to 
task one day on the subject of Hamilton Blood- 
good’s attentions and the gossip it had caused, and 
Madge did not resent it. 

“I have had to deny more than one story about 
you,” she said. “Do you know there are rumors 
around that you are engaged? I hope it is not 
true.” 

“It certainly is not true,” Madge answered stout- 
ly, and her manner of speaking was not lost on the 
other woman. 

“Oh, Madge Willoughby,” cried the impetuous 
Mrs. Tom, “it would just break my heart if it 
were, or ever should be! He is no more fit for 
you than my brother Jack; no, not so much.” 

“But it is not true!” Madge reiterated. “I do 
not care to discuss the matter one way or the other.” 

Even this did not satisfy Mrs. Tom Allers. She 
had made up her mind to have her say, and she 
was going to have it in spite of everything. 

“Madge, I am competent to give you advice, 


SAINT MAMMON 161 

because I am a good deal like you in disposition. 
Marry such a man as that? You might as well 
waste your affection on a statue, for all the return 
you would get. What does he know about love, 
as such women as you and I understand it? He is 
too selfish. He has never been called on to make a 
sacrifice in all his life; and let me tell you, dearie, 
love is only a sacrifice of self after all. He has 
been petted and indulged until he has only learned 
to gratify his own desire at the expense of every- 
thing else. Some women would be satisfied with 
such devotion as he would show her, but you and 
I are not that kind. I know he is a nice man in 
his way, and there is much that is attractive to 
him.” 

Madge hung her head. 

‘‘He is nice, and — and I do like him a little,” 
she said, without looking up. 

“Of course he is nice, and I can readily imagine 
how you are impressed with him. He needs a wife 
that can govern him, a cold-blooded sort of a per- 
son that would not bow down to him, nor worship 
the ground on which he treads. Oh, dear! I 
sometimes wish we women had more head and less 
heart. Look at the men ; how much superior they 
are to us in that respect. We women follow our 
hearts blindly and never lose faith in them until 
we have been deceived. Don’t you know, dearie, 
it is fated that when we give way to sentiment 
without consulting our reason we are sure to make 


1 62 SAINT MAMMON 

ninnies of ourselves? I wish we had more in- 
tellect!” 

Mrs. Tom had taken Madge in her arms while 
she was speaking, and the young girl nestled there 
like a child. 

“Don’t you know, darling,” she whispered, 
“don’t you know that when we poor women marry 
we have to make an unconditional surrender? It 
should be our care that the man we choose is worth 
surrendering to.” 

Madge looked up smiling now, and Mrs. Tom 
continued fondling her much as a mother would 
have done. The two whispered together for some 
time, until at last the elder woman broke out 
again : 

“Oh, dear ! That is nothing at all ! I thought 
I was in love a dozen times before I married. In 
fact I was just recovering from an affair of the 
heart when I met Tom. I really believe it is a 
good thing for a woman, particularly when she is 
impulsive as I am, to be disappointed a few times. 
I used to be very romantic once, but I am getting 
over it. Look at Tom and me, would you ! We 
are very happy together, although I do treat him 
shamefully at times; but I can’t help it. If I had 
married some other man whom I fancied I liked, 
we might be quarrelling all the time.” 

“I never had such a friend as you before,” 
Madge said half sadly. “You seem like a mother 
to me, and I never had a mother.” 


SAINT MAMMON 163 

“But you shall have one now,” cried Mrs. Tom, 
impulsively kissing her. “I’ll be mother to you 
from now on. Your secret is safe in my keeping. 
Trust me for that!” 


CHAPTER IV 


About this time it befell there came a crisis in 
the affairs of the Mercury Club, and great excite- 
ment prevailed among the members in consequence. 
Certain men from a rival club came to pay them a 
visit, boasting that they were going to show the 
exiles how to drink, and teach them a few wrinkles 
in the bargain. As this same club had proved its 
prowess in other lines, and had offered odds that 
it would win this trick also, the event was one not 
to be forgotten by the club historian. When the 
sun rose the next morning the Mercury Club held 
the honors, and the visitors were under the table. 
Jockey Van Hurdle realized his destiny on this oc- 
casion by outdrinking everybody, and young Quiz- 
zledown, who never let a bet go by him, made so 
much money that he bade fair to become a bloated 
bondholder. 

Now as a result of this drinking bout two fac- 
tions arose in the club, one seeking to vindicate such 
practices, the other condemning them, and excite- 
ment ran high. There had been disagreements 
among the members before, but happily they had 
called forth no display of temper beyond what the 
club cocktail could satisfy.. This one, however, 

164 


SAINT MAMMON 165 

threatened to be serious, and many began to fear 
that the breach it caused could not be healed. 

Right on top of this came another sensation, 
which proved to be the straw that broke the camePs 
back. A new man was proposed for membership 
with nothing to recommend him but an athletic 
record, and Jockey Van Hurdle insisted on black- 
balling him because he was not in the exiles’ class. 
He took this stand in the face of the united protest 
of the other members, and refused to reconsider 
his action, although pressure was brought to bear 
on him to do so. In fact there came near being a 
row about the matter, until one day the man did 
something that got into the newspapers, thereby 
vindicating Jockey. 

Now the trouble began in real earnest. 

Somebody (nobody knew just who) started a 
rumor that the club had been guilty of bad form, 
and straightway every exile trembled. It looked 
as if the end of the Mercury Club was in sight, 
because an organization of its character could not 
hope to exist with the stigma of bad form hanging 
over it. 

It was at this critical juncture that Charley Poin- 
dexter proved himself a genius in club-craft. Never* 
had his remarkable talents shown to greater 
advantage, and it is no exaggeration to say, except 
for him the annals of the Mercury Club would 
have closed abruptly. 

He brought forward a set of resolutions and 
was so tactful in getting them out of committee 


1 66 


SAINT MAMMON 


and forced to a hearing that everybody was carried 
away with admiration for him, and the club was 
saved. 

His recommendations were adopted with but 
two dissenting votes, and one of these was known 
to come from Methuselah, who opposed every- 
thing. 

This incident marked the culminating stage in 
the life of Charley Poindexter as a club leader, and 
proved his greatness beyond cavil. When after 
the ballot had been announced, some one moved to 
make the vote unanimous, and every man except 
Methuselah sprang to his feet at once, Charley 
Poindexter had reason to feel that he had not lived 
in vain. 

The club tendered him a dinner not long after- 
wards as a compliment to his administrative ability, 
and the exiles labored to do him justice on this 
occasion. They praised him for his courage, his 
consistency, his farsightedness, and likened him to 
Abraham Lincoln and the great Bismarck. 

Under such circumstances the fact that Madge 
had gone to visit Mrs. Tom Allers did not attract 
so much attention as it would otherwise have done. 
Indeed, it was not until affairs had settled down 
to a normal condition, that the matter was noticed 
at all. Then all the exiles admitted that Jack 
Allers was a clever dog — much more clever than 
he got credit for being. Jockey Van Hurdle re- 
marked that he would not play the field against 
him for any odds, and Jockey’s opinion was sure 


SAINT MAMMON u'67 

to be a conservative one, because experience with 
horses had taught him caution. 

A rumor even got around that added a highly 
romantic touch to the affair. It was stated, on the 
best unknown authority, that Madge had been 
in love with Hamilton Bloodgood all along, but 
that her uncle had spoiled the match between them. 
Certain parties further declared that the girl had 
rebelled under this treatment, and they professed 
to be able to describe the scene which followed when 
Hamilton was dismissed, going into details to give 
the story a high coloring. There were a few who 
believed this, and for a while Mr. Roosevelt Will- 
oughby enjoyed the reputation among the exiles 
for being a devil of a fellow. 

But Jockey Van Hurdle discredited the whole 
business. 

“Hammy wasn’t even called,” he said, by way 
of comment on these tales. 

Now when a horse’s name is not called, it means 
that he was not in the race at any moment. 

Charley Poindexter, too, had his version of the 
matter, but he was not airing it for everybody’s 
benefit. 

“I thought that man Allers was not a fool,” he 
remarked, as he took a survey of his view. 

“He better look out that girl doesn’t make him 
one, though,” Stacey Mansfield answered, assum- 
ing that the remark had been addressed to him- 
self. 

“Pooh! He knows he doesn’t stand a show 


1 68 


SAINT MAMMON 


without outside help, so he has got his sister-in- 
law into the game.” 

Stacey looked up quickly from the billiard-balls. 

“Oh, that’s the trick, is it?” 

“Of course. I thought everybody knew that. 
If I got after a maiden I only wish I had a woman 
to work her for me, that’s all. No sooner is 
Hammy sidetracked than Allers’ sister-in-law grabs 
for the girl to force him on her. Clever, isn’t it?” 

It was evident from the way he handled the 
billiard-balls that Stacey had not regarded the 
matter from this standpoint before, and it impressed 
him. 

“Well, if he gets that girl with all their schem- 
ing he will do better than I think,” he said. 

Hereupon, Poindexter approached him and whis- 
pered something in his ear. 

“No !” Stacey cried, turning away from the table 
and letting the end of his cue rest on the floor. 

“Fact!” assented Poindexter. 

Stacey scored some shots that required cool cal- 
culation ere he permitted himself to speak. Then 
he made a proposition that fairly took Poindexter’s 
breath. 

“What? How’s that?” 

If Stacey had discovered a new feature in his 
view he would not have astonished Poindexter 
more. 

“You don’t mean that, old man?” he said in some 
concern; but he was all excitement, and his pulse 
beat quick. 


SAINT MAMMON 


169 

Stacey only nodded and went on with his game. 

Poindexter was overcome. He watched his 
friend suspiciously, as if he expected him to show 
signs of mental hallucination. But Stacey kept his 
intellect down to billiard-balls, and trivial things 
were beneath him. 

He had actually had the courage to offer Poin- 
dexter an odds. 

Throughout all these discussions it is worthy of 
note that Dick Twaddleby had no comment to 
make; but this was probably owing to the fact 
that the gravity of the situation did not allow 
room for joking. When good men like Hamilton 
Bloodgood go wrong, and quiet fellows like Jack 
Allers are suspected of turning schemer on account 
of a pretty face, sober-minded exiles could see no 
occasion for levity. 

“I sometimes tremble for the girl,” Richard said 
at last. “She will keep on trifling with men until 
she meets one who will take her seriously. Per- 
haps he will force her to act up to appearances 
and marry him. That’s the fate of flirts some- 
times, and I don’t know but what it is good punish- 
ment for them.” 

“Don’t waste any sympathy on her, Richard,” 
Charley Poindexter called out. “She still has the 
divorce court in an emergency.” 

“Yes, and it’s the only hope of many a fine 
woman, too,” Richard made bold to say. 

Richard was in one of his pensive moods this 
afternoon, and the spirit of soliloquy was heavy 


170 


SAINT MAMMON 


upon him. It had been raining hard all day, so 
that no one would think of venturing out of doors. 
Consequently a large crowd had gathered in the 
billiard-room discussing the club cocktail, and 
smoking the pensive cigarette, and there is every 
reason to suppose that the trend of their thoughts 
would be toward the unattainable; for it was only 
natural that when they were shut up" like so many 
hermits in their cells, their fancy should dwell on 
the vanity of things mundane. 

They fell now to discussing the “gentle she,” 
her tastes, her follies, her vagaries, her influence in 
the world for good and for evil. Jockey Van 
Hurdle declared that horses and women were God’s 
twin gifts to man. That out of one of Adam’s 
ribs the Lord made Eve, and out of another He 
fashioned the horse. In proof of this theory, both 
went contrary at times, and both have to be handled 
properly. Horses get balky occasionally, and 
women are sometimes inconsistent. 

Dick Twaddleby hung back as yet from this 
symposium, and an air of gloomy melancholy en- 
veloped him. Nevertheless, every exile knew that 
his manner prophesied great things. He would 
come out of his trance in a moment, and then the 
lion would roar. 

Stacey Mansfield, busy with the billiard-balls, 
had a premonition of what was coming, and stood 
ready to endorse all his utterances. Poor Stacey! 
He had not a single idea in his own head, and 
Richard’s brilliancy appealed to him strongly. 


SAINT MAMMON 


171 

Five minutes had passed, and behold, Richard 
was himself again! 

Now the Hamlet act began. 

Richard : We men have got to lay low now and 
give the ladies a show. We have produced our 
Shakespeare, our Napoleon, and some few others. 
But we have reached our limit. It isn’t men that 
are going to set the world on fire hereafter; it is 
women. They are going to get emancipated, and 
then watch out. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Poindexter: It will be a great day when the 
fair sex gets the upper hand. The afternoon tea 
will be a power in the land. 

Richard : Everything points that way. Times 
are looking fierce for men, and they are becoming a 
useless commodity on the market, now that wars 
are going out of fashion. What more natural than 
that women should assert themselves in these piping 
times of peace? We have nothing to lose by it, 
because we will be able to live on papa with an 
easy conscience. 

Poindexter: Yes, and marrying heiresses will 
be considered more honorable. 

Richard: That’s it, my boy! The old chaps 
have got all the money tied up so that nobody can 
get at it, and if things don’t change soon revolu- 
tion and anarchy are bound to come. But just 
let them dower their daughters handsomely and 
the young fellows will stand a chance. 


172 


SAINT MAMMON 


Poindexter: You always were orthodox on the 
heiress question, Richard. 

Richard: I have to be, dear boy. They used 
to picture Cupid as an archer going around shoot- 
ing shafts at random. The Cupid of to-day posts 
himself on finance before he practices on hearts. He 
gloats over a bank account as eagerly as the old 
Cupid did over an unsophisticated swain. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: A position in society nowadays, like 
a seat in the stock exchange, comes high, and it is 
going higher. If there is to be an American aris- 
tocracy it will have to be taken from Bradstreet’s. 
I don’t know whether it is a disgrace to die rich, 
but I do know it is hard lines to have to live poor. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : The aristocracy of blood has reached 
its limit and the nations demand something new. 
We promised society to do startling things when the 
Declaration of Independence was written, and be- 
hold, we have given it the millionaire. There are 
only two institutions in the whole earth that people 
bow down to to-day. One is the European with 
his coat-of-arms, and the other is the American 
with his dollars. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 


CHAPTER V 


The exiles held their breath now. They re- 
alized that Richard had cleared for action, and they 
strained their ears to catch each broadside. Charley 
Poindexter was not likely to interrupt the flow of 
his ideas any more ; for somebody had just pointed 
out to him a feature in his view that he had not 
noticed before, and in the excitement he forgot 
about everything else. 

Richard: There is no land on the face of the 
earth where it is possible to put up such a front 
as in this free America of ours. We have got 
plain citizens here that could give pointers to 
crowned heads in doing it, too. Democracy is 
stuck on a man who acts as if he despised it. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard: There used to be a time when we 
cared for glory in this country and went mad for 
it. That was when we were provincials. Since 
we have become free and independent we have 
repudiated such nonsense and gone in for gold. 
There is nothing in America equal to the worship 
of the Almighty Dollar. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard: If I were king of a modern state I 


173 


174 


SAINT MAMMON. 


would show the taxpayers that it came high to 
carry me. Then the protelariat would think I 
was high jinks and would want to class me with 
Napoleon. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: Now across the pond it is different, 
of course. They have a blooded aristocracy over 
there, but it has taken them centuries to build it 
up. How can we expect to rival Europe on her 
own ground in a generation or two? It is all 
nonsense to try. American heraldry would only 
excite laughter, and American coats-of-arms would 
be ridiculous. There would be the golden mush- 
room on the dollar argent, with gules highly gilded. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: Sometimes in this country, when a 
man finds he doesn’t amount to much, he tries to 
prove that his ancestors were great people. The 
more insignificant he is the greater he tries to prove 
they were, and he only gets laughed at for being 
below their standard. Why, some of the people 
who are trying to get a corner on society and 
freeze everybody else out of it, don’t like to talk 
about their own grandfathers. They are simply 
long on money and short on everything else. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: You can’t blame the American 

maidens for snapping up the foreign nobleman, 
though. Titles are the forbidden fruit of democ- 
racy, and as such they seem doubly precious in 
their eyes. The time is bound to come when the 


SAINT MAMMON 


U5 

daughter of a President of the United States will 
marry a crown prince in Europe. I hope it will 
come soon, because then the American girl may be 
willing to rest on her laurels. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: It is nothing against a man in the 
United States to have an ancestor, provided he 
amount to something himself. Perhaps, when we 
get more civilized, we will permit an American to 
sit down and do nothing, because he had a grand- 
father. But America owes too much to individ- 
ual effort to-day and exacts something from every 
citizen. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: Now when it comes to a question of 
aristocracy in this land of ours we discover two 
plans we can go by. One is European, is servilely 
imitative, and even Europe herself would laugh 
at us if we tried it. The other is American, 
original, not incompatible with our institutions, 
neither does Europe sneer at it. Europe respects 
it and does not hesitate to express admiration for 
democracy for producing it. That American idea 
of aristocracy is plutocracy. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: Plutocracy then is the gift of democ- 
racy to modern society. Who presumes to rail 
at it? Europe does not, for it seeks alliance with 
it through its best and most exclusive institutions. 
Yes, Europe offers it marriage with its nobility. 
Can Europe offer it more? As to the American 


SAINT MAMMON 


176 

who would sneer at it, he better look out that 
plutocracy does not sneer at him. I tell you this 
plutocracy is the greatest thing democracy has been 
able to produce, and democracy strained every 
effort to produce it. It will have its “noblesse 
oblige,” just as feudalism did. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : The problem before democracy was 
a more serious one than some people understand. 
How could it produce an aristocracy in the face 
of the Declaration of Independence? It could not 
go back on that immortal document, yet an aristoc- 
racy of some kind it must get. The world would 
have jeered at its pretensions to greatness if it did 
not. The world would have said: “Your insti- 
tution is of the lower form only. It cannot pro- 
duce anything above that form.” Now democracy 
was proud and sensitive and wanted the respect of 
society. It hit on plutocracy and straightway old 
Europe recognized it. Mighty proud now democ- 
racy is of its offspring. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : See now how clever it all is. Do you 
suppose it would be fair for the American people 
to proclaim an aristocracy on the Old-World plan? 
Never! Americans would not submit to it. 
Neither would it be square for the poor emigrants 
who leave Europe to get away from its institutions. 
They have read the Declaration of Independence 
and they won’t become citizens if we are going 
back on that. So we give them plutocracy and 


SAINT MAMMON 


177 

they join with us in applauding it. Behold, now 
we too are the salt of the earth ! 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : With democracy and plutocracy hand 
in hand we are moving on to greatness. Once 
Europe had to discover America. If Europe 
doesn’t watch out now, America will have to dis- 
cover Europe. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: We are cosmopolitanizing in two 
ways. The whole world comes to us, and we go 
abroad to see the world. The result is American 
society has broadened. We are getting so we are 
willing to admit that emperors and kings are just 
as good as we are. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard: The great trouble with us to-day is 
our forefathers did everything that was to do, and 
we are weighed down with bad form. What is 
the use of trying to find anything new ? Columbus 
discovered the last new thing there was, and ever 
since then everything has been exploited to death. 

An Exile: How about the North Pole? 

Richard: We know all about that, dear boy, 
without going there. That’s the trouble nowadays 
— everybody is so bright a man is afraid to pro- 
claim his own ideas, lest people say he is a plagiarist. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard: Americans have tested ideals until 
they are getting suspicious of them. We had some 
visionary theories about liberty once. That was 


SAINT MAMMON 


178 

before we knew what liberty was. Since we have 
found out, we have dropped them. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard: The fact of the matter is we have 
dethroned genius in the interests of mediocrity and 
call that progress. If a man tries to do anything 
great nowadays he finds he is only imitating some- 
body, and the critics soon set up a howl that he is 
a poor imitation at that. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : Everything is so serene now with the 
body politic that it is absolutely tame, and at the 
beginning of this twentieth century we discover 
an outlook for civilization that almost makes us 
pine for a little barbarism, just to give it variety. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : Some nation that existed ages before 
the dawn of history got everything out of life, 
and we have not advanced beyond it yet. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: The Lord intended we should all 
be rich, I think ; but the devil invented poverty out 
of a grudge he bears humanity. I know a man 
that keeps a yacht, and yet he is always grumbling 
that he is poor. Another friend of mine dresses 
in purple and fine linen and fares sumptuously 
every day. He, too, complains about his circum- 
stances, and in moments of depression will declare 
he is going to end his days in the almshouse. So 
I have decided that there is no such thing as wealth, 
but only different degrees of poverty, as the mil- 


SAINT MAMMON 


179 

lionaire poor, the well-to-do poor, the respectably 
poor, and so on by various grades down to the 
beggars on the street. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard : It may be love that makes the world 
go round, but when there is a good bank account 
behind it this old sphere just whizzes. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard : What do you suppose Adam married 
Eve for? Because she was the only woman on 
earth and he loved her? Nonsense! She was 
entitled to half the Garden of Eden, and he was 
afraid she would claim her share, so he invented 
matrimony and got it all himself. Adam was foxy 
enough for his better-half in those primitive days, 
and man has been trying to jolly the fair sex ever 
since. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: The great hope of American society 
is a growing appreciation of bad form. Issues 
become bad forms and they are dropped. Preju- 
dices become bad form and they are forgotten. In 
short, bad form is the hope of democracy. Per- 
haps some day extravagance will be bad form, and 
then we will go in for a little simplicity. 

Stacey : Right you are, Richard ! 

Richard : At the present time, though, that day 
seems far off. People don’t seem to care for any- 
thing that doesn’t come high, and the higher it 
comes the more they like it. Even matrimony is 
no exception to the rule. A friend of mine mar- 


180 SAINT MAMMON 

ried a society queen. I hope he is happy. He 
says he is. He declares he is ambitious for his wife. 
I hope that is so. It strikes me, though, that it 
is hard on him. He is a mere serf to his better- 
half, and is expected to toil hard and heap up 
luxuries for her to wallow in. That’s the trouble 
with matrimony, anyhow. So many people get 
fooled by it and have to make the best they can 
of it. 

Stacey: Right you are, Richard! 

Richard: I sometimes think polygamy would 
not be a bad idea. A man might be reckless about 
choosing his first wife, or even the second or third, 
but by the time he got to the fourth he would 
begin to be conservative. Then, too, we might be 
able to do away with the divorce court. 

Charley Poindexter had mastered his view by 
this time, and was ready to interest himself in what 
was going forward. 

“Yes,” he interrupted, as he caught this last 
remark, “yes, polygamy would not be a bad idea, 
because then a man could keep on marrying heir- 
esses until he became a billionaire.” 

Richard sighed and relapsed into gloom, and 
straightway silence reigned throughout the clois- 
tered walls of the Mercury Club. 


CHAPTER VI 


Mrs. Tom Allers was just ready to give up. 
In fact, she announced that if Tom did not come 
home soon to console her she would give up, and 
have one of her furies in the bargain. 

She had always held that her husband was just 
her own husband, and that there was nothing re- 
markable about him, nor about herself, nor about 
any other member of the family. He was simply 
an Allers and so was Jack, and she was an Allers 
by marriage, and that was all there was about it. 
Fancy her astonishment then when a lady on whom 
she was calling declared that she considered both 
Jack and Tom very handsome men. 

“What, handsome? Jack and Tom handsome !” 

“Certainly!” 

Mrs. Tom was so astonished that she wanted to 
shriek; but she hurried straight home and told 
Madge all about it. 

“Oh, dear ! I am just ready to give up ! Tom 
handsome! Why, he’s only an Allers! Jack 
handsome! He’s an Allers, too.” 

Madge smiled feebly. 

“Soon they will be saying that I am pretty, and 
then I shall have to give up in real earnest,” 


182 


SAINT MAMMON 


In regard to Tom, Madge was ready to speak 
her mind freely. 

“Your husband is a very handsome man,” she 
said. “I have often looked at him in admiration.” 

Mrs. Tom collapsed. 

“And didn’t anybody ever tell you that you are 
a pretty woman?” Madge added roguishly. 

“Never!” gasped Mrs. Tom. “That is, nobody 
but Tom, once, and he only said it before he pro- 
posed, and then he had to.” 

“Well, then, I will say it now. You are a very 
fine-looking woman, and must have been a beauty 
once, and Tom is a handsome man.” 

Mrs. Tom gave a gasp and dropped back on her 
chair limp and helpless. But, fortunately, Tom 
coming home at this very moment was in time to 
brace her. How it would have fared with Madge 
for her rashness we are unable to state, as Jack 
Allers happened to come in a moment later, and 
at sight of him his sister-in-law cried out: 

“Jack Allers, I am going to pound you !” 

Now Jack knew from experience what this 
meant, and he did not stop to inquire the cause 
of so abrupt an outburst. He bolted upstairs at 
once and locked himself in his room and did not 
come down until the dinner bell rang; for there was 
an understanding in the house that whenever Mrs. 
Tom had one of her furies, the dinner bell pro- 
claimed a truce. 

No sooner had he appeared at the table, however, 
than his sister-in-law began to twit him mercilessly 


SAINT MAMMON} 183 

about his good looks and the impression he had 
made in some quarters, whereby he was made aware 
of the reason for her display of temper. Poor 
Jack looked sheepish enough at this and begged for 
quarter, but his tormentor was pitiless. He stole 
more than one glance at Madge; but when he per- 
ceived that she was not laughing at him he plucked 
up courage and watched his chance, hoping to turn 
the conversation by some apt remark. 

“Just think of having to hear a young lady call 
Jack handsome l” Mrs. Tom went on with ex- 
asperating playfulness. “Tell me where you have 
been showing off your attractions, Jack, so I can 
be prepared next time.” 

But Jack was dumb under this kind of banter- 
ing. 

“She said you had such lovely eyes. Don’t you 
think his eyes are fine, Madge ? Oh, I could stand 
for anything but this !” 

“And charity fairs,” Jack said quickly, and the 
shot went home. 

“Jack Allers, I would like to pound you again !” 

Fortunately he was at the other end of the table, 
else he might have received a blow that was no 
gentle one, as he could testify. For charity fairs 
were a sore point with Mrs. Tom, and one that 
riled her beyond endurance. She had an experience 
with one once, and was furious about it still. This 
same transaction she believed was fit subject for a 
court of justice, or a legal inquiry at the least. 

She had purchased a cushion for five dollars and 


184 


SAINT MAMMON 


donated it, and the committee marked it down to a 
dollar and a half. Then because nobody took it 
they actually sold it to the man at whose store she 
had purchased it, for fifty cents. The reader must 
appreciate the full force, of Mrs. Tom’s indigna- 
tion when this point of her narrative was reached, 
because words fail to convey it altogether. Furious ? 
Well, if she didn’t give that committee a piece of 
her mind, that’s all ! 

“And just to think!” she cried; “just to think! 
I only succeeded in donating four dollars and a half 
to that swindler of a storekeeper, and fifty cents to 
charity !” 

As Mrs. Tom concluded she made a face at 
Jack Allers, who sat meekly at the other end of 
the table, glad no doubt that he was out of range 
of her fists. She stuck her tongue out at him, 
snapped her fingers, and made a motion as if she 
would tweak him by the nose. Perhaps she only 
wanted to show how she would act if he were 
charity fairs personified, so that she could get even 
with them in his person. At any rate Jack kept 
out of her reach. 

It always took her some time to recover after re- 
citing her wrongs on this head, and this is how 
Jack succeeded in turning the conversation from a 
theme distressing to himself. It was fully five 
minutes before she could finish her dinner, and even 
then she was so worked up she could not enjoy any- 
thing. In this way Jack escaped without further 
teasing. 


SAINT MAMMON 


185 

After the meal was ended, Tom had to comfort 
her, because she was suffering so much from the 
thought of the charity fair; and when he had done 
this she took it into her head to tease Tom in turn, 
so as to prevent him enjoying his cigar. She 
was so taken up with this, hugging him and maul- 
ing him as if he were a pet bear, that she forgot 
about Jack and Madge altogether. The result was 
that these two had the evening to themselves. 

How well Jack improved his opportunity it is 
not our purpose to state, having no desire to spy 
on this young couple. While in the presence of 
Mrs. Tom they conducted themselves very de- 
corously, only talking about the weather and other 
commonplace things. When, however, they per- 
ceived that their conversation did not receive the 
attention from her that it merited, because she was 
so busy with her unhappy spouse, they strolled out 
into the yard, where there was a pretty rustic arbor, 
in which they could pursue the weather topic with- 
out fear of interruption. 

Now there are people of a sentimental turn who 
manage to see a chance for romance in the common- 
est occurrences. To all such we cheerfully accord 
permission to give full play to their fancy in this 
case, if they so choose. Then, too, there are some 
so matter-of-fact that they never suspect the drift 
of things, even when an author has labored hard 
to bring them to their view. Many* a love scene 
is anticipated by the one, and many a climax is 
wasted on the other. 


1 86 


SAINT MAMMON \ 


Take, for instance, the story of Jack and Jill, as 
touching a love tale as was ever penned. In the 
eyes of certain stupid persons it has only its ludi- 
crous side. They read that Jack and Jill went up 
the hill, and Jack fell down and broke his crown, 
and are simplyinclined to laugh at his clumsiness. 

But there is a study of true love there, when we 
come to look at it from the standpoint of a senti- 
mentalist. Jack and Jill — not Jack alone — went 
up the hill. 

How many Jacks now who have known a Jill, 
and are ready to go anywhere in her sweet com- 
pany, can fill in the incidents without stretch of 
fancy! Jack goes with Jill only too gladly, and 
as he takes hold of the handle of the pail we may 
be sure that his hand touches Jill’s soft palm, caus- 
ing him to feel a thrill at the contact. 

Yes, and they exchange sly glances and coy smiles 
and blush not a little, and who knows what else 
these children of nature may do or say to one an- 
other as they climb the hill to the* well where the 
water is to be drawn? When at length they start 
back to the house Jack takes care to carry most of 
the load himself by a trick of seizing the handle as 
near to Jill’s side as possible, and no doubt he walks 
in a kind of trance, whereby he stumbles and falls. 
When now this climax in the tragedy is reached, 
poor, gentle Jill, all terror and pity at the sight, 
stumbles after him, to suffer like him, to die by his 
side if may be. 

What more touching tale of devotion, we ask, 


SAINT MAMMON 


187] 

does literature contain, if only interpreted by a 
sentimental commentator? 

However, we are forced now to give some ac- 
count of what really took place in this arbor be- 
tween Jack Allers and Madge Willoughby, lest the 
reader’s imagination run away with him. 

The night was warm and the moon shone bright. 
But Jack Allers was in a chaffy mood rather than a 
sentimental one, and the spirit of mimicry was 
strong upon him. His fancy turned to mock idyllic 
poetry, as when Thirsty Cloud, chief of the Kicka- 
poos, woos the love of Firewater, the belle of the 
tribe. He talked in light raillery, and in a fashion 
that surprised himself. However, Madge seemed 
to enjoy it. 

They did not stay out late because — well, be- 
cause Jack felt he was on dangerous ground. But 
the next morning when Tom went out to that arbor 
to enjoy a cigar before breakfast, he saw a faded 
flower and a woman’s glove lying on that rustic 
seat. He took a few thoughtful puffs at his cigar, 
and then a smile played around the corners of his 
mouth just for an instant. He picked up the glove 
and carried it into the house, and later found op- 
portunity to put it in Madge’s room. But he was 
careful not to tell his wife about it. 

Tom Allers had an aggravating way of keeping 
his own counsel, anyhow, and it aggravated her at 
times. He would let her talk and plan without 
hindrance from him, but when he dropped a quiet 
objection now and then in a way that summed up 


1 3 3 


SAINT MAMMON 


the situation briefly and to the point, she generally 
got one of her furies. So aggravating, and so 
Allers-like ! 

Ever since Jack had come to live with them, 
Mrs. Tom had manifested a disposition to take 
him in hand and overcome the defects of his cow- 
boy career. But Tom never would be party to 
any of these schemes looking to his brother’s social 
improvement. 

One day she decided Jack ought to marry. 

“He ought to have a nice wife who would ap- 
peal to his refined instincts,” she said to Tom. 

“I quite agree with you,” Tom answered. 
“Every man would be better off if he were happily 
married.” 

“How would Lillian Thurston do?” 

Tom took a puff at his cigar and answered not. 
Evidently he was not prepared to choose for his 
brother. 

“I think she would just suit,” his wife went on. 
“I am going to do my best to bring them together.” 

“Now look here, my dear,” protested Tom at 
this point, “let me give you some advice. Never 
try to make a match between two people. The 
go-between in a love affair, like the go-between in 
a fight, gets all the blows.” 

It was just like Tom to sit there and throw cold 
water over her plans. That was why she never 
accomplished anything. 

“Tom Allers, I don’t believe you have any senti- 
ment in you!” 


SAINT MAMMON 


189 


“Can’t say I have much, love.” 

“I don’t believe you would care if I ran away 
and left you for good. You would sit right there 
and smoke that cigar of yours as if nothing had 
happened.” 

“Certainly, love! x\nd when I had finished it 
I would go out and hunt for another wife !” 

Whereupon she gave him a box on the ear. 


CHAPTER VII 


Perhaps it was on Madge’s account that 
Mrs. Tom decided to throw her house open to 
young people, but for that matter she was very 
fond of this kind of excitement herself. She had 
been a great belle before her marriage, and had 
played the tyrant among scores of admirers, as only 
a pretty woman can. Tom once declared that for 
her the road to matrimony had been well lined 
with broken hearts, and that he had trembled for 
himself when he first fell into her toils. Perhaps 
if he had not been so much of an Allers, and so 
aggravating in his courtship, he might not have 
succeeded. Mrs. Tom stated afterwards that she 
wanted to pound him the very first time she laid 
eyes on him, which was probably her way of falling 
in love at sight. 

She planned now a series of informal dances, 
because her parlors were fitted for affairs of this 
kind, the rooms being large and opening up well. 
Of course anything Mrs. Tom gave would have to 
be informal, as she hated pokey affairs, even in the 
line of social functions. 

Therefore, it came to pass that the exiles of the 
Mercury Club were astonished to receive an invi- 


190 


SAINT MAMMON 


i9 1 

tationto a series of dances to be given at Mrs. Tom 
Allers’ house on certain evenings of the week. They 
one and all received this announcement with visible 
emotion, and were unable to reconcile it with their 
theories. For, holding that Mrs. Tom had got 
Jack and Madge together so cleverly just to make 
a match between them, they could not understand 
what this move meant. They were inclined to 
think, however, that she had the girl well in hand 
by this time and wished to parade her triumph. 

Now the exiles had made it a rule to ignore 
Heathdale society, for the reason that it was con- 
stantly starting rumors to their detriment. Of 
course such philosophers could not be expected to 
care for people who criticised them. But in this 
case they accepted Mrs. Tom’s invitation because 
they were interested in the turn affairs were taking. 
Consequently, on the first night of her party every 
exile was present and accounted for. 

Some of them went prepared to hear Madge’s 
engagement announced, and these knowing ones 
would not have been surprised at something in the 
brass band and fireworks line. It is safe to say 
that Stacey Mansfield went to satisfy himself about 
an odds he had offered Charley Poindexter, and 
Poindexter was there to find out what were his 
chances of winning that same odds. 

They were disposed to be very, critical of Mrs. 
Tom Allers, and they watched Jack narrowly. 
They were decently polite to the other girls present, 
but they did not take their eyes off Madge. 


192 


SAINT MAMMON 


If appearances went for anything, she did not 
look as if she were held in that house under com- 
pulsion, and yet you can’t always tell, you know. 
Women are peculiar. Many of them hoped to 
find in her face some trace of enforced captivity, 
and were expecting to behold a tear-stained maiden 
languishing in her bower, with a Mary-Queen-of- 
Scots air. Perhaps, too, they were ready to play 
the knight-errant at the very first appeal from her. 
The exiles were capable of chivalry, in spite of 
their partiality for cigarettes. 

But evidently Madge was in no need of their 
services, was quite content with her lot, and in the 
best of spirits. Neither did she seem forced to 
show favor to Jack Allers, but flirted right under 
his nose, outrageously and wilfully at that. The 
exiles thought they saw a warning to him in this, 
and decided that she was trying to show that he 
was not master of the situation after all. 

Stacey Mansfield accepted this view and felt 
elated by it. He was a study this evening, as he 
stood propped up against the wall, his hands thrust 
deep down into his trousers’ pockets, and that keen 
look in his eyes which suggested that he was draw- 
ing beads on imaginary billiard-balls. Charley 
Poindexter stood by his side equally interested, but 
not one bit excited. 

“No go!” he whispered to Stacey, even as the 
other was gloating over the situation. “It is all 
a blind, my boy ! The girl is bluffing, that is all.” 


SAINT MAMMON 


193 

Stacey winced a little, and Poindexter turned 
away, so as not to disturb his meditations. 

Only once did Mrs. Tom Allers appear to in- 
terfere in any way that would seem to credit these 
suspicions. She approached Madge while the 
latter was engaged with a small crowd of her ad- 
mirers, and began to rally her in some surprise. 

“Why, Madge, you fly-away! I did not know 
you were so dangerous!” 

The exiles fairly gasped at this and exchanged 
knowing glances. Charley Poindexter was de- 
lighted. He stole up to Stacey’s side again. 

“Very clever matchmaker that!” he remarked, 
playfully. “Knows how to call the maiden down, 
all right. Our friend Richard ought to get her 
to pick out an heiress for him.” 

Stacey winced again, and for a moment lost heart. 

Ere he had time to recover his spirits another in- 
cident of a more serious nature occurred to upset all 
his calculations. He had been watching his man 
very closely without being suspected, and he saw 
Jack and Madge meet for a moment. Very acci- 
dentally it was, to be sure, and a less shrewd ob- 
server would have repudiated the notion that this 
rencontre was intentional. Stacey managed to get 
near them, and he kept his ears open. Madge was 
acting the penitent, he perceived, with all the con- 
trition of a flirt, and Stacey’s heart sank within 
him. 

“Would you beat me?” he heard her ask. 

For answer Jack bent down and whispered some- 


SAINT MAMMON 


194 

thing Stacey could not hear. She began to laugh 
softly, and Jack bent lower to catch the ripple of 
her laughter. 

Stacey fled. 

If he had been in love with the girl himself and 
had discovered in Jack Allers a successful rival, 
he could not have felt worse. His jaw dropped 
and he looked crestfallen as he sneaked out to a 
porch which overlooked a garden where there was 
a rustic arbor, and fairly kicked himself as he 
thought of the odds he had been fool enough to 
offer Charley Poindexter. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The circumstance that led to Stacey’s final sur- 
render would not have convinced an admirer that 
the favored man had appeared or that there was 
no hope for anybody else. But Stacey was only 
interested in the case to the extent of that bet, and 
this made him quick to admit what a lover would 
seek to deny. He had plenty of chances to behold 
these two together, and the more he did so the 
gloomier he became. For Mrs. Tom Allers’ af- 
fairs grew popular and none of the exiles could be 
persuaded to miss one of them. Whether this 
was that these hermits, having once crawled out of 
their holes, found it easy to stay out, or whether 
it was all owing to Mrs. Tom’s tactfulness, Heath- 
dale could not determine. Everybody admitted, 
however, that nobody else could rouse them from 
their apathy as she had done. They seemed to 
have unbent towards society all at once, and dances 
and tennis and golf became the order of the day. 
The club-house resounded with merriment of an 
evening now and was graced by the presence of the 
fair sex. In short, the exiles appeared to have 
turned over a new leaf. 

Heathdale had never known such a gay season, 


*95 


SAINT MAMMON 


196 

and it remembered it with pleasure for a long time 
after. It was fated to be the last summer the 
exiles were to pass in the place as mere philosophers 
and men of the world. Another year was to be- 
hold them in a hero role, and then Heathdale 
would be glad to have such recollections of them. 
But it was all Mrs. Tom Allers’ doing. The exiles 
took a fancy to her and wondered why they had 
not discovered her before. 

Jack Allers suddenly sprang into popularity, too, 
by virtue of the horsemanship he displayed in polo 
matches. For with this revival of social enthusi- 
asm, athletics were not neglected. Even Jockey 
Van Hurdle got worked up over the equestrianism 
that Jack showed, and Jockey knew horses all 
right. But the fact is, Madge was sitting in the 
grandstand, and under the fire of her eyes Jack 
Allers felt that he could perform miracles. 

One afternoon, in particular, she was his in- 
spiration. He fancied that she was watching him 
with more interest than she had ever manifested be- 
fore. He pulled his horse upon its hind feet in 
front of the spot where she was sitting and bowed 
his acknowledgment to her applause. Every exile 
present noted this incident and made silent comment 
on it. 

Mrs. Tom Allers sat by Madge’s side, dumb with 
astonishment. She was a good horsewoman her- 
self and could appreciate such extraordinary ability 
as Jack showed; but that an Allers should do all 
this was a revelation to her. She turned to the 


SAINT MAMMON 


197 


assembled multitude with pride and delight plainly 
written on her countenance, and she called Madge’s 
attention to Jack himself with no attempt at con- 
cealment. The exiles marked how she fairly 
hugged the girl in the effort to impart some of her 
own enthusiasm to her, and they deducted but one 
conclusion from it. Nevertheless, while still under 
the thrill of Jack’s triumph they could not with- 
hold their applause. 

Ere this enthusiasm had time to subside, Stacey 
Mansfield might have been observed hurrying away 
from the spot with Charley Poindexter close at his 
heels. Stacey was walking with a loungey gait, 
but his whole manner was that of a man who had 
made a sudden resolution and was going to live 
up to it. A single glance at his face was sufficient 
to show that here was a lad who had seen with 
his own eyes, heard with his own ears, and was no 
longer to be numbered with the unconverted. 

The two journeyed in silence, until Stacey spoke: 

“I call, dear boy,” was all he said. 

The next day Stacey Mansfield went to a bank 
and drew out enough money to settle a bet he had 
made with Charley Poindexter; then he turned him- 
self into the billiard-room of the Mercury Club 
and hastened to get his intellect down to billiard- 
balls, as though he would fain forget. It is worthy 
of remark, too, that from this time forward he was 
never known to offer Poindexter an odds. 

But where was Hamilton Bloodgood all this 
time, while a rival was trying to supplant him, and 


SAINT MAMMON 


198 

Mrs. Thurston was at such pains to thwart his 
hopes? We have purposely kept him in the back- 
ground in order that the reader may be prepared 
to receive some startling news on his account. 
However, before it is made public there is much to 
tell. 

Must we admit that man is but fickle here below, 
and must we further concede that he will follow a 
fancy almost to the winning of it, and then turn 
aside to something else with equal ardor? Or 
shall we dismiss as mere illusion the fancy itself, 
and take no account of the disappointment that goes 
with the resigning of it? It is written that every 
Romeo meets his Juliet sooner or later, and in proof 
of this statement, behold, Romeo Smith, who was 
jilted by Miss Jones and Miss Brown, meets Juliet 
Robinson, and is happy. 

But, perhaps we may as well own frankly that 
Hamilton’s passion was of the kind that might be 
called puppy love. He had been heard to declare 
that women were like dogs, anyhow — the more you 
indulge them the more ungovernable they become. 

The honest fellow had been having his share 
of trouble of late. His father had tried to put 
the screws on him this summer and had failed 
signally, although he did succeed in making things 
interesting for his son and heir for a time. To the 
elder Bloodgood money was god, and with his 
sordid nature he could not appreciate bull pups 
even. Hamilton had to bear many things without 
protest, and felt himself a martyr for so doing. 


SAINT MAMMON 


199 


But it sometimes happens that a man possessed 
with power overreaches himself and by his despotic 
conduct excites to rebellion those whom he might 
otherwise hold in meek subjection. History is full 
of such instances, but we need not repeat them here. 
Whom the gods would destroy they first make 
mad, is written about their folly and their down- 
fall. Mr. Stuyvesant Bloodgood was another case 
to the point. In the foolhardiness of his rage 
against his son for his dissipation and idle habits, 
he put forth an edict against dogs, and straightway 
the vials of wrath were uncorked upon his devoted 
head. 

Hamilton went to his mother and poured his sor- 
rows into her sympathetic ears. She heard him in 
silence, gathered herself together in all the majesty 
of outraged motherhood and then Thetis went to 
Jove with her tale of wrongs. 

Poor Jupiter! Did not all the inhabitants of 
heaven conspire against him, when he would have 
interfered in behalf of the godlike Achilles? So, 
too, this lord of a household was checkmated when 
he would have acted for his son’s good. He 
argued, he grumbled, he stormed. His wife an- 
swered him not a word; but kept looking firmer 
and firmer and firmer, and in the end she carried 
her point. 

This explains now why honest Hamilton might 
be seen on these pleasant days driving about Heath- 
dale behind a spanking pair of bays and a muzzled 
bulldog trotting on three legs under the wagon. 


200 


SAINT MAMMON 


It also explains why he was in such good spirits 
and able to take life so philosophically. 

But Madge did not ride with him behind the 
spanking pair of bays, although he was out with 
them every day. A bulldog trotted between the 
wheels, and sometimes another bulldog sat beside 
him. Again, however, there was somebody with 
him not of the brute creation, and on such occasions 
bulldogs were left at home, because that mysterious 
somebody did not share his enthusiasm for them. 

Suffice it to say that it was not Madge, and for 
this reason there was no happier woman in Heath- 
dale, as the season drew to a close, than Mrs. 
Thurston. It became evident to her that such a 
thing as an engagement between Madge and Ham- 
ilton Bloodgood was averted, as she fondly be- 
lieved, by her efforts alone; for Mr. Willoughby 
had been but an indifferent ally all along. If, 
too, he had been a bit peevish in responding to her 
appeals for aid, it must be remembered that he had 
been in some danger of passing out of the memory 
of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, on account of his loyalty 
to his family. 

Everything had been quietly but effectually done, 
and Mrs. Thurston felt that the credit was due to 
herself only. She was a pious woman, and it com- 
forted her not a little to reflect that some day 
Madge would realize how much she owed her. 

Poor creature ! Little did she realize what was 
threatening her own flesh and blood ! 


CHAPTER IX 


It was at the close of the summer season that 
the harrowing events, about to be related, took 
place. 

Society was beginning to turn its face cityward, 
and the exiles of the Mercury Club were looking 
forward to a return to their quarters in town. Mrs. 
Thurston, the victim of the hour, but as yet un- 
conscious of the calamity that was to lay her pros- 
trate, was still congratulating herself on the way 
she had managed the affairs of the Willoughby 
household, and was enjoying her laurels by anticipa- 
tion. The catastrophe that dashed her hopes, turn- 
ing her victory into a mockery, had best be briefly 
told. 

A Roman poet has informed us that there is a 
monster called Rumor, merciless, hydra-headed, 
fearful to behold. It respects no woman, it fears 
no man. It takes its origin from a mere whisper, 
but grows with every breath until it walks the 
earth like a giant, resting its head among the clouds. 
Then it stalks about, bellowing forth scandals with 
a brazen tongue, getting people by the ears until 
they believe whatever it tells them. 

Now there was in Heathdale a descendant of 


201 


202 


SAINT MAMMON 


this same monster, so dreaded by the ancients, and 
every once in a while it made its presence known in 
the most unpleasant manner. We have seen how 
it brooded over the Mercury Club at times, telling 
scandals about the exiles themselves. It also forced 
its way into families, dragging into the public view 
skeletons which are supposed to be hidden from the 
eyes of strangers. In short, it seemed to take de- 
light in blackening characters hitherto considered 
spotless, and some poor deluded creatures were 
badly frightened by it. 

Now it came to Mrs. Thurston and whispered 
gossip that filled her with the direst dismay. Her 
daughter had been seen driving about the country 
with Hamilton Bloodgood, and she was left to 
draw her own conclusions from this fact. 

At first she was inclined to discredit the story 
altogether, but she took prompt measures to ascer- 
tain its truth and assert her maternal authority. 
She hurried at once to Lillian — and mark now how 
she was treated by this daughter, whom she had 
reared so carefully and indulged in every way. 

“Lillian, is it true that you have been driving 
with Mr. Bloodgood?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 

“Without my knowledge or consent?” 

“Yes, mamma!” 

“After I had warned you against him?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 

“Knowing that I did not approve of him?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 


SAINT MAMMON 


203 


“And thought him fast?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 

“And yet you deceived me?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 

“Has it happened often?” 

“Yes, mamma !” 

“Will you please explain yourself, miss?” 

“We are engaged to be married, mamma!” 

Whereupon this poor, deceived parent sat right 
down on the floor and burst into a flood of tears. 

If she had ever thought it would come to this 
(sob sob), that her own daughter would play false 
to her (sob sob), she would have been more strict 
with her (sob sob). She had always trusted her 
implicitly (sob sob), and this was her return (sob 
sob). To think that she should engage herself to 
such a man as this (sob sob) ! He had a bad 
reputation (sob sob). He was known to be fast 
(sob sob). He did the most horrid things (sob 
sob). She would never put faith in any one again 
(sob sob), and would always be selfish hereafter 
(sob sob). 

And so on through a long list of grievances, duly 
punctuated with tears. 

Lillian of the Haughty Face heard her in silence, 
and then left the room, haughtier than ever. She 
said not a word, and made no apology for her 
conduct, and if she felt remorse at all, her manner 
did not show it. 

Poor Mrs. Thurston nearly cried her eyes out. 
She went to bed and remained there all day, and sKe 


204 


SAINT MAMMON 


had such a headache the next morning she could 
not leave her room. Her daughter passed the 
door several times without offering to enter it, 
neither did she even give her a look of comfort. 
It was evident that Lillian of the Haughty Face 
had a will of her own, that sighs and lamentations 
could not break. 

Later in the week Mrs. Thurston felt better. 
She dried her eyes, composed her feelings, and sum- 
moned her daughter into her presence. 

“You may tell me all about it, Lillian. ” 

Then followed a pouting confession. 

Hamilton was very nice and she had always 
liked him. People said horrid things about him, 
but they were not true. She would have acted 
differently, but she knew her mother was so op- 
posed to him. Her conduct may have been cen- 
surable, but — but she — she couldn’t help it. She 
was sorry her mother had been treated in this way, 
but — but it wasn’t her fault. She — she couldn’t 
help it. 

Then Mrs. Thurston took the contrite girl to 
her bosom and forgave her. Perhaps, too, she 
cried again, but it was from a different motive. 
Next she called for her carriage, and remembering 
that Mrs. Bloodgood had recently returned to 
Heathdale, she hastened to call on her, determined 
to make the most of the situation in spite of her 
feelings. For, indeed, there was no other course 
open to her, on account of Lillian’s undutiful con- 
duct. 


SAINT MAMMON 


205 

She was welcomed by Mrs. Bloodgood with a 
cordiality that contrasted strangely with her own 
depression. 

How kind it was of Mrs. Thurston to call first! 
Mrs. Bloodgood was just getting ready to go to 
her with the news, which she felt sure must please 
her. Yes, she had just heard of the engagement, 
and it filled her with joy. She was delighted with 
Hamilton’s choice, and would be so fond of her 
daughter-in-law. She kissed Mrs. Thurston effu- 
sively, and then fell to eulogizing her son’s virtues 
like a fond, deluded mother that she was. 

Mrs. Thurston gave a little gasp, and could 
scarcely believe her ears. 

What! Speak about a young man of her son’s 
habits like this ! It was almost beyond credence ! 
If such conduct was to be overlooked in this family 
what was to be expected from it? She trembled 
for her daughter and was tempted then and there 
to announce her objection to the match. 

But she could not be insensible to Mrs. Blood- 
good’s happiness, and checked herself in the act of 
speaking out her mind. Then, too, Mr. Blood- 
good put in an appearance while she was still under 
the spell of his wife’s naive enthusiasm. He, it 
appeared, had not heard the news yet, and his 
better-half proceeded to break it to him without 
delay. Mrs. Thurston took heart again from the 
way he received it. 

“You may congratulate me, Mrs. Thurston,” 
he hastened to say. “I hope I may be able to con- 


20 6 


SAINT MAMMON 


gratulate you, as the affair turns out. I can only 
add now that we are proud of our son’s choice, 
and my family will feel honored by the alliance.” 

Poor Mrs. Thurston thanked him with a show 
of spirit, but hardly knew what to say. She re- 
alized that Lillian had managed things so as to 
leave her no chance to interfere, and her heart sank 
within her. 

But now Mr. Bloodgood went on to declare he 
realized that his son had been rather gay. 

Rather, indeed ! was Mrs. Thurston’s silent com- 
ment. 

He even felt that some of his actions might have 
caused him to be talked about unpleasantly. How- 
ever, he was willing to think that this was the mere 
exuberance of youth. He believed, too, now that 
he had engaged himself to a young lady so worthy 
he would show his regard for her by different de- 
portment. He realized that Mrs. Thurston had 
to consider all these things on her daughter’s ac- 
count, and he appreciated the delicacy of her posi- 
tion. 

At this Mrs. Thurston took heart again, but it 
is doubtful whether Mrs. Bloodgood was alto- 
gether pleased at her husband’s words. 

One thing was certain, however. Lillian of the 
Haughty Face had played her cards well. 

***** 

But now, while the curtain rings down in order 


SAINT MAMMON 


207 


to make time for a little scene-shifting, while the 
orchestra is rendering a symphony from Beethoven, 
the author must do a turn before the footlights for 
the reader’s benefit. 


BOOK IV 


CHAPTER I 

Our muse, which has been piping an Arcadian 
strain among the pleasant hills of Heathdale, must 
now strike a more pompous measure. How gladly 
would it linger here with the simple folk we have 
been depicting; but we are following Mr. Will- 
oughby to town again, and must adapt our song to 
loftier themes. 

Stand aside, ye supers! Mr. Roosevelt Will- 
oughby is about to make a new entrance, and to 
give the professionally-fashionable set the benefit 
of his best bow. Aid us, sisters nine, to do justice 
to him, and begin in epic strain. 

As when the great mandarin, the incomparable 
Tut-Tut, starts on triumphal progress through his 
favored province. His satellites have journeyed 
before him, proclaiming the advent of this most 
sublime representative of the son of heaven. 
Whereupon the expectant people felicitate them- 
selves at the glad tidings, and beseech him to so 
far lower himself in his magnanimous condescen- 
sion as to accept their most unworthy gifts. 

This, no doubt, is the way Mr. Willoughby 

208 


SAINT MAMMON 


209 


would do it, if he could; but, alas! he was only an 
amateur in society as yet, and he appreciated the 
fact that ere he got to be a star of the first magni- 
tude, he would have to content himself with the 
position of a social understudy. The first article in 
his creed declared that it was the whole duty of 
man to win the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, 
and to be fearful of passing out of her memory. 
If only she would permit herself to recollect him; 
if she would graciously extend to him the favor 
of her approval — ah, that were a boon devoutly 
to be wished ! 

Yes, he realized the gravity of his position. 
To take up society professionally, and make it a life 
work, to become a fashionable specialist — here was 
a task indeed! How many that had tried to do 
these things ere now had failed ! How many had 
passed out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones 
just as they fancied they had won the coveted 
prize! Mr. Willoughby had to have faith in him- 
self to make the attempt, and he must be sure of 
his ability as a genteel tactician. He had felt the 
pulse of the professionally-fashionable set, mere 
amateur though he was. He understood the hypoc- 
risy of the drawing-room and could put on the mask 
of interest at a moment’s notice. Something told 
him this season would settle his fate. Either he 
was to make a success now, or else he would pass 
out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, go 
back to Heathdale, and accept an Arcadian exist- 
ence without murmuring. 


210 


SAINT MAMMON 


But until he had made one last trial he could not 
do this. He had been biding his time in patience, 
eating his heart out, and his ambition could not 
be suppressed longer. How often had he been 
forced to repress a sigh at the thought of society 
worlds to conquer, while he was merely existing 
like a creature whose mind had not been awakened 
to the delights of a professionally-fashionable 
career ! O thrice and three times happy those who 
win the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones; but woe 
to them that pass out of her memory ! 

Yes, the risk was great, but he must take it. 
His anxiety could not be argued away, it could not 
be made to vanish into thin air. Even as he slept 
it stalked before him as a feverish dream, in all 
its frightful reality. It would laugh at his fancied 
contentment, and with fiendish glee it would whis- 
per in his ears : Abandon hope all ye that pass out 
of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones ! 

Much as Mr. Willoughby yearned for society 
he knew enough to keep away from it until his posi- 
tion was more secure. To put himself in the way 
of snubs all the time would be suicidal. In this 
connection he recalled the pathetic story of a person 
who labored hard to get an invitation to Newport 
and only succeeded in passing out of the memory 
of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones. 

He used to declare that he found the dissipations 
of the town a positive relief to him after the 
monotony of Heathdale and he chose to believe it 
was the people he met that affected him so favor- 


SAINT MAMMON 


21 I 


ably. We know how In ancient times men were 
healed of their ailments by king’s touch. In much 
the same way the antidote for Mr. Willoughby’s 
discontents was the favor of those who stood high 
in society. Under the benign influence of their 
condescension he became a new being. 

We can picture him now, entering on the crisis 
of his life with a courage that was sublime. He 
had decided to join Mrs. Humphrey Provost in 
an attempt to win a position that would enable him 
to take up society professionally. He must have 
realized what he was undertaking. 

Furthermore, he must have great faith in his 
ability to hold a vantage point if it were once 
won. He could not be ignorant of the danger of 
passing out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones. It goes without saying, therefore, that 
Prudence had formed social plans that he could 
trust himself to approve. 

We must remember that ever since society has 
become a profession it is more difficult to get into 
it. People cannot take it up impulsively and then 
drop it at will. A man or a woman must be pre- 
pared to accept it seriously and with a view of 
devoting themselves to nothing else. One can 
serve no other master but fashion. To attempt to 
compromise with it is impossible. Those in a situa- 
tion to know will declare that once drawn into the 
social whirlpool, there is no use trying to stem the 
current. You must simply drift with it. Society 
is a jealous mistress. It demands your life service. 


212 


SAINT MAMMON 


Let us see now on what Mr. Willoughby based 
his hopes and what his qualifications were. 

In the first place he was a past-master in all the 
polite technique of the drawing-room. 

He could listen with every show of interest to 
some aristocratic woman’s account of the trouble 
she was having with her coachman and how one 
day she was forced to walk nearly half a block to 
reach her carriage — and regard it as a real tragedy. 

He always held his own opinion in reserve until 
the elect had spoken, and then he echoed theirs. 
In this way he saved himself the danger of offend- 
ing against the canons. He forgot everything 
disagreeable the moment it was uttered; but if he 
heard anything pleasant about anybody he remem- 
bered it and quoted it again. Consequently, ladies 
would be tempted to pour into his ears the most 
delightful scandals, which were perfectly harmless 
because they related to the nicest people. Why, the 
simple privilege of listening to these blood-curdling 
tales, whispered under bated breath, would com- 
pensate him for all the trouble he might be put to 
in order to gain the entree. 

Already he had acquainted himself with some 
of the polite gossip of the day and was posted on 
much that it was proper to know. It seemed that 
a great personage in Europe was entertaining the 
wrong Uppercrust-Millers, under the impression 
that he was doing the honors to the shining lights 
of American society. Everybody is supposed to 
know that there is a branch of the Uppercrust- 


SAINT MAMMON. 


■ai 3 

Miller family that is not the real Uppercrust- 
Millers, and none but a European could make 
such a blunder. Society was laughing about this. 
Here these people were being lionized on the 
strength of a family name, while the real Upper- 
crust-Millers were simply dazed by the rumors that 
came across the Atlantic. 

Of course, society must have its fads, which it 
will pursue with enthusiasm for a time, and then 
discard without warning. Mr. Willoughby always 
interested himself in the latest one; but as soon 
as he discovered that people were tiring of it he 
dropped it hurriedly. As to ideas — why, some of 
the professionally-fashionable set made it the study 
of their lives not to be bothered with ideas. They 
would go to any length with trifles just to save 
themselves mental effort. 

Isn’t it strange what a difference there can be 
’twixt tweedledum and tweedledee ? But the truth 
of the matter is they are as far apart as the two 
poles. If it were not so, society would not know 
what to do with itself. Mr. Willoughby appre- 
ciated this and harped upon it. He could talk 
about it by the hour and magnify it a thousand- 
fold. 

But, alas! what would all this cunning profit a 
man if he were destined to pass out of the memory 
of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones? 


CHAPTER II 


To attempt to buy one’s way into American 
society would be like offering gold to Midas. There 
is too much money in it already. Nevertheless, 
this seemed to be the very thing that Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost was planning to do. She had sur- 
rounded herself with people enormously rich, who 
would back her up in anything she might have 
on the tapis. 

We may take Mrs. Snubbody-Jones’ word for it: 
Unless society became a profession in America we 
would have no society at all. 

That is to say, democracy will not tolerate an 
aristocracy except it become professional, only 
eligible to those who are able to win a position in 
it. 

Consequently, the over-rich have a proper field 
in which to exploit their wealth. If they do this 
sensationally, even vulgarly, it is hardly to be 
wondered at. 

But there are people that have a genius for it, 
and such persons cannot be kept down in spite of 
millions. Mrs. Humphrey Provost believed that 
she had social talents of a very high order and 
only an unfortunate circumstance had held her 


214 


SAINT MAMMON 


215 

back heretofore. Her husband’s family had waged 
war on her to her disadvantage. But now her 
sister-in-law was in Europe, to remain indefinitely, 
and her better-half had gone on a yacht cruise with 
some of his cronies. Moreover, Mrs. Bon-ton, 
who was Mrs. Saltearth’s fast friend and was 
known to share her prejudices, was in mourning, 
and was known to be living in strict retirement. 
Hence the time seemed propitious for Prudence to 
make a bold move. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby, too, always felt that 
he had a good amateur position in society, so that 
under favorable circumstances he could take it up 
professionally. Just assure him of the favor of 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, prove to him that he had 
not passed out of her memory, and the rest would 
be easy. He must have seen a great opportunity 
in backing Prudence now, else he would hardly 
risk everything he had by joining her in this 
prospective coup. He was not the man to take 
such chances for merely sentimental reasons. 

And Prudence showed how highly she appre- 
ciated his aid by putting herself in his hands up 
to a certain limit. He was the conservative in- 
fluence back of her now; but just how far she could 
rely on him would be likely to depend on her own 
discretion. If Mr. Willoughby saw the chance to 
win the favor of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, he would 
be tempted to throw everybody and go it alone. 
If Prudence did sensational things which would 
cause him to pass out of her memory, he would 


2 1 6 SAINT MAMMON 

drop her. Surely no one could blame him if he 
did. 

For he understood the situation much better 
than she. He was not headstrong and looked 
the field over calmly. If the unexpected were to 
happen it would be because people were tired of 
the same round of entertainments and weary of 
meeting the same faces under the same circum- 
stances. He himself had planned that the psycho- 
logical moment was to come at the Horse Show. 

Prudence’s first move was not a bad one. She 
had run across an English baronet somewhere and 
was taking him up seriously. He was the genuine 
article, and Prudence was not afraid to have people 
investigate and satisfy themselves that there was 
nothing spurious about him. The way he adjusted 
his eyeglass and stared at an unfortunate native 
when introduced to him caused Prudence to indulge 
in some extravagant hopes on his account. She put 
him on exhibition in some of the best drawing- 
rooms and was prepared to stake her chances on 
him. 

Just before he left London somebody had told 
Sir Lionel Dudley that the American woman is 
deuced clever, don’t you know. Consequently, he 
had come to this country with an idea. He was 
burning for an opportunity to study the American 
girl in her native wilds and note her resemblance 
to the original Pocohontas. 

Now fate decreed that the first one he met under 


SAIN T MAMMON 2 1 7 

favorable circumstances should be Madge Will- 
oughby. 

She was introduced to him in due form in Mrs. 
Humphrey Provost’s own parlor. His lordship 
screwed a glass in his right eye and stared at the 
wall about a foot over her head when the presenta- 
tion took place. Then he gave a sudden start, 
readjusted his monocle and stared right at her, 
while a thrill of joy, that he could really feel, 
satisfied him that his opportunity had arrived. 

Madge had assumed an awestruck, timid manner 
on being led into the presence of this paragon. She 
was the unsophisticated little maiden that was try- 
ing not to be frightened. She dropped a modest 
curtsy, and held her eyes on the floor. His lord- 
ship gave another start and his manner betrayed 
excitement. 

Madge curtsied as he continued to stare at 
her, and assuming a very modest demeanor, began 
to back away from his august presence. 

At this point Mrs. Humphrey Provost could not 
repress a ripple of laughter. 

But the reader will please remember that we are 
playing for Mrs. Snubbody-Jones’ favor and are 
taking the chance of passing out of her memory. 
There is danger that she might become alarmed 
at these well-laid plans, and assume that outsiders 
and new people were scheming to circumvent the 
elect and force themselves on society. To disarm 
her of this suspicion is a delicate task indeed. 

Mr. Willoughby is our hope now. He is in 


218 


SAINT MAMMON 


command and is supposed to have the field well in 
hand. He had cautioned Prudence to go slow 
and not try anything rash. She was very daring, 
he had cause to believe, and if left to herself would 
be sure to make a blunder. She had agreed to 
yield the leadership to him for the present, although 
she did not as yet realize the master-mind that was 
guiding her destinies. 

She certainly had no cause to complain about the 
way she was being received. Mr. Willoughby had 
managed it so that everybody was saying nice things 
about her, and the friends of her sister-in-law were 
a bit bewildered. It had suddenly become the 
fashion to praise her before society. It was even 
whispered that she had been unjustly treated. 

Everything appeared to be moving without fric- 
tion. A hint had been dropped somewhere that 
had electrified the world of fashion. But the fact 
is there was need for it. 

America’s untitled aristocracy had pulled itself 
together for another season of boredom and had 
almost lost its appetite for the feast before it 
began. Everybody agreed that it was high time 
something be done to put life into things. The 
stereotyped list of favorites was becoming a joke 
with the favorites themselves. New people, it 
was whispered, were necessary to the very existence 
of the professionally-fashionable set. 

Let us breathe softly, for the plot thickens. 

The campaign opened very quietly, just a recep- 
tion or two of the most informal kind, so as to get 


SAINT MAMMON 


219 

the forces lined up for the grand entrance. Every- 
body seemed to realize that some surprise was in 
store, but nobody could guess what it was. Some 
master-mind was in command, and something new 
and startling was to be looked for. 

Now the genius in charge of the situation was 
no less than Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby, and he 
was clever enough not to show his hand. 

It was a great stake he was playing for and he 
was not the man to shut his eyes to it. One false 
step, he told himself, and all would be lost. But 
he had worked out the details of the plan too care- 
fully to be easily beaten. He felt success in the 
air. Society had been made to believe that there 
were great things in store for it, and that after all 
was half the battle. 

He had made careful inquiries and was satisfied 
that Mrs. Saltearth had buried herself on the con- 
tinent of Europe somewhere, so that her faction 
could not get in touch with her for some time, if 
indeed they wished to do so. They were too dazed 
by the suddenness of this move to offer opposition 
to it. Everything went to show that if they did 
decide to act it would be too late. Consequently, 
Mr. Willoughby was not worrying over the out- 
look. He had reason to know that Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones had very graciously permitted herself 
to be interested in his efforts. She had heard 
rumors of what was going forward and had de- 
cided to be ignorant of the great plot that was being 
worked up right under her nose. This made Mr. 


220 


SAINT MAMMON 


Willoughby hopeful that she might approve of it 
in spite of her antipathy for new people. 

But enough of this parleying, and away with 
timidity ! The reader must brace himself and re- 
member his cue. The great climax is at hand. 

And now let the orchestra strain itself, and give 
way to musical frenzy. Let the violins squeak their 
squeakiest and let each horn instrument strive to 
outhorn all the others. Sound trumpet! Pound 
drum! The Horse Show begins! Society has 
flocked to town in a body to attend it. Here we 
make our grand entrance, and throw the great 
stake, be the issue what it may. 


CHAPTER Tir 


We Americans were accused of provincialism 
in times past and it has even been hinted that we 
lack the refinement which can come only with class 
privilege. Let us answer our critics boldly now, 
if not with pride, that we have a society in this 
country and have succeeded in making a great 
science out of it. 

Possibly the rest of the world is behind us in 
this respect. 

Furthermore, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones has declared 
that she lost faith in all things American until it 
did become a profession and gave her hope. 

Ever since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth 
Rock and laid the foundation of the ancestor busi- 
ness in New England, we have been trying to get 
a social caste in this land of extensive liberty in 
order to stand off the sovereign people. Our best- 
laid plans have frequently miscarried, but now that 
we have anchored on plutocracy all is well. 

This, it seems, is the only form of aristocracy 
compatible with our institutions. It may be that 
we are a nation of moneyed upstarts. But with 
our cleverness we have refused to allow an upper 
class to ride over us rough-shod. We have saved 


221 


222 


SAINT MAMMON 


ourselves from the tyranny of a privileged order 
and have placed it on a plane with some other 
things by making a profession out of society. 

We pride ourselves on our originality in this 
.country. 

And who shall say that civilization is not bene- 
fited when it discovers one place on the face of 
the earth where the self-made man ranks with the 
descendants of crusaders? With our millionaires 
to fall back on, poor worn-out Europe may pluck 
up heart. When some of its impecunious nobles 
gird on their coats-of-arms and set out to win favor 
in the eyes of American parvenus, the age of 
chivalry may return. We can write the sacred 
dollar-mark on their escutcheons, so that none may 
sneer at the conceits of an effete system. 

It has been demonstrated in this republic that 
one title of nobility makes the whole world kin. 
Surely, then, Prudence was wise in staking her 
chances on Sir Lionel Dudley as an attraction to 
her friends. Under her chaperonage the baronet 
was beginning to feel as much at home in the wilds 
of New York as he would in London itself. Per- 
haps he missed the fog for a time, but a man can 
get used to that, don’t you know? 

His hostess declared he was an enthusiast over 
yachting, but it was hard for some people to under- 
stand how such a man could be an enthusiast over 
anything. If he could be impressed at all he should 
have shown proof of it when he was dragged off 
to the Horse Show and put in a box to admire or 


SAINT MAMMON 


223 


to be admired, as the case might be. However, 
he simply poked a glass into his right eye and stared 
into vacancy, as if he were a piece of statuary. 

Before his vision was paraded the pomp and 
vanity of this giddy world, and the sensational ex- 
ploiting of the same; but he noted it not. Lords 
and ladies of Mammon were here, showing off 
their finery for this stranger within the gates, while 
he only stared and fell to wondering how many of 
them were in trade. 

Some clever person has dubbed the Horse Show 
“The Feast of All Clothes,” because it is custom- 
ary on this occasion for people noted for their 
exclusiveness to crawl out of their shells and dis- 
play their finery for the edification of the public, 
who know them only through the newspapers. 
Some of them, out of respect for the event, enter 
their horses as well as their womankind. Queens 
of the drawing-room and belles of the season are 
here, while from every corner of the land Jona- 
than’s fairest daughters gather to this carnival 
of fashion. They outshine the quadrupeds in 
whose honor the event is held, and in fair and 
open competition they would doubtless carry off 
the prizes themselves. 

Are we not tempted to ask now what profession 
is equal to society? 

If the baronet could not be impressed by this 
sight it is safe to assume that he had not got the 
London fog out of his brain yet. 

But he was not the only one in Mrs. Humphrey 


224 


SAINT MAMMON 


Provost’s party who did not appear to enthuse over 
the affair. It had fallen to Madge’s lot to enter- 
tain another stranger, Mr. Van Whist Bridges by 
name, who had recently come over from Paris. 
She had met him before and the two were good 
friends; but she was put to her wits’ end to find 
something to say to him that would engage his 
attention. She pointed out such things as she 
thought might be appreciated by a man of his cos- 
mopolitan tastes, but he appeared to be perfectly 
bewildered to find himself in such a strange coun- 
try. He was, if possible, more phlegmatic than 
the baronet. 

However, it does not follow that everybody 
from the other side of the pond should be ex- 
pected to warm up to sights that appeal to the 
natives. Strange to say, cases have been known 
of people who were kicked out of Europe, and 
yet thought they could come to America and 
patronize its institutions. 

But Madge did not allow her guest’s apathy to 
interfere with her own enjoyment of the scene 
before her. The Feast of All Clothes was in full 
swing by this time and she found much to interest 
her in watching it. Like some panorama of fairy- 
land it seemed, and it set her to moralizing. Here 
was all the elegance of a society, whose refinement 
is an ethical money worship, which makes a virtue 
of living beyond its means. To these people there 
is no sin like poverty, no punishment like sacrifice 
of self. It must be that there is a certain flavor 


SAINT MAMMON ' 225 

about this reckless dissipation which whets the ap- 
petite without palling it. We live, we spend, we 
squander, its votaries cry, and challenge the gods 
themselves to produce happiness like to theirs. 

New York is the sacred city of Mammon, where 
he hath been canonized. There is only one more 
step for us to take now. Let us set aside a day on 
which the whole nation shall keep the feast of the 
Almighty Dollar, and on that day let its divinity be 
proclaimed. Let us do honor to it with fitting 
pomp and ceremony, as the only god the favored 
of Mammon should recognize. 

We should be an even-tempered race, because 
the blood in our veins is puritanical and cannot 
easily be brought to the boiling point. Neverthe- 
less, we have gone money-mad. We will not be 
satisfied now until the aristocracy of wealth has 
had a chance to prove to the world its “noblesse 
oblige.” It is almost pitiable to note how the great 
American people have pinned their faith to the 
virtue there is in riches. God help them if it prove 
to be misplaced! 

In spite of this musing Madge did not fail to 
note Dick Twaddleby among the fashionably- 
dressed throng, and she got a bow from him that 
was calculated to break hearts. Richard was hot 
stuff on this occasion. He looked as if he had been 
melted and poured into his clothes. 

Likewise she caught sight of Jockey Van Hurdle, 
but got no recognition from him. He was making 
hail-fellowship with the professional horsemen and 


226 


SAINT MAMMON 


famous mounts, those gamey fellows who come 
under the wire by a nose, and are the real heroes 
of the turf. He considered them of more im- 
portance than the whole pack of society lions, and 
he had no eyes for the fair sex either. 

But his opinion was not the common one on this 
occasion. In the estimation of the public, horses 
were not being judged now ; men and women were 
on review. Every member of the professionally- 
fashionable set, every noted society amateur — what 
an array it was, to be sure ! Society is woman’s 
realm in this free land of petticoat tyrannies. The 
male creature is only a secondary satellite in it. 
The queens of fashion were holding court here 
now. 

If Mrs. Humphrey Provost had planned to make 
a sensation with her party she could not have suc- 
ceeded better; for her box was the cynosure of all 
eyes, and surely she may be pardoned a thrill of 
exultation at the triumph she had won. All the 
honors which thje votaries of fashion covet, all the 
favors which Mammon can bestow, seemed to be 
there at that moment; and who shall pretend to 
despise them altogether? 

Is there any wonder then if her eye sparkled a 
little brighter, and the proud pose of her head pro- 
claimed the satisfaction she felt? 

But she was not alone in this feeling of happi- 
ness. By her side in all his glory sat Mr. Roosevelt 
Willoughby, with his best Willoughby manner on, 
and the Willoughby bow very much in evidence. 


SAINT MAMMON 


227 


Everybody appeared to be looking at him, he was 
being recognized on all sides, and his soul exulted 
within him. He did not for a moment consider 
that the baronet was in any way responsible for this, 
but took the whole credit to himself. Society was 
welcoming him to its folds again, him, and him 
only, and the coveted goal was before his eyes. 

Mrs. Rowdydow bowed to him; Mrs. Tommy- 
rot blew him a kiss; Mrs. Wayinit waved her hand; 
the Princess De Flimflam smiled upon him — the 
Princess De Flimflam, who was Miss Dunover. 

But his head was not turned by this show of 
favor. The great event he was looking forward 
to had not pulled off yet. His mental vision was 
centered on the box where Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 
sat, and he realized too well that on her nod hung 
the fate of this issue. She had been posted about 
this matter. She knew what he had at stake. On 
her approval he had builded his highest hopes. 

Suppose now she were to ignore him? Then 
farewell, Ambition! By that sin fell the angels, 
and how could Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby expect 
to profit by it ? 

Mr. Willoughby was outwardly calm, but in- 
wardly he was on fire. As he looked about him 
it seemed as if every box was empty except the one. 

Every nerve in his body was at its highest 
tension, and he was bracing himself for his great 
opportunity. 

She must have seen him now. 

The supreme moment was at hand. 


228 SAINT MAMMON 

His heart almost stopped beating. 

She bowed. 

She smiled! 

She waved her hand ! ! 

She blew him a kiss ! ! ! 

Prick him at this moment, and would he bleed? 
Pinch him, and would he feel pain ? 

The day of setbacks had passed now. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby had arrived. 


CHAPTER IV 


Because society has become a profession, it 
does not follow that it is governed by certain rules 
which anyone may hope to master. It is more than 
a profession. It is a calling. It behooves all 
those that have yearnings for it to examine them- 
selves, so as to discover whether they be of the elect. 
In fear and trembling they should go about this, 
because it is predestined and fore-ordained that 
certain persons pass out of the memory of Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones in spite of their most honest efforts 
to make their salvation sure. 

No one was more aware of these facts than Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby, and now that the crisis of 
his life had come, he could be relied upon not to 
do anything rash. It was very well known that 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones had a horror of new people, 
and as he had been identified with Prudence and 
her friends he might be compromised yet. 

Therefore he proceeded to protect himself by 
throwing Prudence over as soon as he could. 

In this he proved that he was a master of the 
polite art of getting on in the fashionable world. 

If now any are inclined to reproach him with 
disloyalty it is only fair to say that Prudence set 

229 


230 


SAINT MAMMON 


him the example. Possibly she had a secret con- 
tempt for Mr. Willoughby’s timidity, and was glad 
to get rid of him. She realized that she could 
only succeed by employing sensational methods, 
which he would be sure to oppose, and she was not 
likely to handicap her chances by being too thought- 
ful of anybody. There was a conservative ele- 
ment in society that was bound to be against her, 
anyhow. 

Prudence chose to assume a humble air before 
some of Mrs. Saltearth’s friends that was calculated 
bo disarm their suspicion of her. To others she 
even expressed regret that her sister-in-law was out 
of town, as it deprived her of a chance to make 
peace with her. To everybody she spoke so kindly 
of her husband’s family that many began to think 
she was the most harmless of women, and they 
could not but wonder that she had been represented 
to them as a dangerous character. But they did 
not know Prudence because she was masking her 
real feelings. 

They had only heard Mrs. Saltearth’s side of 
her story yet, and it amazed them to learn there 
was another phase of it. Prudence openly be- 
moaned the fact that her husband had refused to 
be reconciled to her when she had used every means 
in her power to reclaim him. 

This was the boldest, cleverest move she had 
made to disarm opposition to her plans, and it 
must be confessed that she did this at random. She 
was in some trepidation as to whether it would sue- 


SAINT MAMMON 


231 

ceed or not. But as it turned out it worked ad- 
mirably. 

Prudence declared that she would give her life 
if she could only see the man for whom she had 
sacrificed so much, saved from the degradation into 
which he had fallen through no fault of hers. She 
had shed bitter tears over his treatment of her. 
She could not — would not — blame his sister for 
taking his part; but, ah, if the world knew what she 
had suffered! She was living in the hope that 
some day her husband would realize his mistake 
and return to her. Gladly — too gladly — would 
she forget and forgive him all. 

Is it not beautiful to contemplate such wifely 
devotion under trying circumstances? When such 
sentiments as these were being dealt out to every- 
body, it is no wonder that more than one person 
was taken in by the counterfeit of meekness that 
Prudence affected now. It began to be said that 
Mrs. Saltearth was vindictive, and Prudence was a 
wronged woman. Everybody had to admit that 
her side of this story was being told for the first 
time. 

With one of the most squeamish of her sister-in- 
law’s friends, Prudence went the limit. She be- 
sought her aid to get her husband to return to her. 
This was the finest piece of acting she had under- 
taken, and she succeeded in working up a great deal 
of emotion over it. 

When she chanced to look at herself in the glass 
afterwards she found two tears in one eye, a third 


232 


SAINT MAMMON 


in the other, and still another tear actually trem- 
bling under an eyelash. She clapped her hands in 
great glee and laughed merrily over this discovery. 

But if Prudence could be accused of acting a part 
in cold blood in her efforts to win society, Mr. Will- 
oughby’s conduct formed a striking contrast to 
hers. If she was all sham and humbug, he was 
all guilelessness. His simplicity was such that he 
played right into the hands of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones, and, it must be confessed, he fell a willing 
victim to her wiles. 

If so great a personage could be said to have a 
weakness of any kind, Mrs. Snubbody- Jones per- 
mitted herself to have a horror of new people and 
their schemes to advance themselves in society. It 
may have been on this account that she took up 
with Mr. Willoughby now. 

Perhaps she suspected that his hand had guided 
this movement to a successful issue. Possibly she 
saw the advantage of binding this master-mind to 
her as a precaution against further reactionary 
plans. A crisis was pending, and nobody could 
tell just what it might prove to be. 

Be this as it may, the important fact remains 
that Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby suddenly found 
his ambition realized. He was able to take up 
society professionally, secure of the favor and 
countenance of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones. What 
greater happiness could any man ask for? 

One day this great personage very graciously 
permitted herself to discover that Mr. Willoughby 


SAINT MAMMON 


233 

was an apt pupil and could be trusted implicitly. 
Hereupon she took him into her confidence. 

She told him what a struggle her life had been 
against outsiders and new people and their efforts 
to break into society. She revealed to him many 
of the mysteries connected with the world of 
fashion. She even hinted how much she had done 
to create the professionally-fashionable set. 

The battle had been a hard one. Without a 
nobility, with no court nor a class system, society 
in America had developed on professional lines. 

Yes, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones was so impressed by 
his genuineness that she permitted herself to make 
him her confidant. She poured out her heart to 
him as she had never been known to do to anybody 
before. 

This proves that Mr. Willoughby had not as- 
sumed too much when he decided to make society 
the aim of his life. 

Handicapped, as he had doubtless been, his was 
the kind of genius that could not be kept down. 
In spite of the drawbacks of a narrowing environ- 
ment he had won the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones, and was no longer liable to pass out of her 
memory. Furthermore, in the crisis that society 
was now facing he managed it so that he was the 
one to whom she turned for comfort while factional 
schisms raged among the elect. 

Great was Mr. Willoughby’s amazement to learn 
that Mrs. Snubbody-Jones considered herself a 
martyr to her position. He had imagined her to 


SAINT MAMMON 


234 

be a proud, self-satisfied woman, pluming herself 
on the fact that she was society’s acknowledged 
leader. But he found now that these honors were 
almost too much for her to bear. 

He was at a loss to account for this at first, and 
it was not until he came to know her more inti- 
mately that he realized what her intense feeling 
on this head meant. 

She gave him to understand that her lot was 
far from enviable. Her very slumbers were 
haunted by visions of outsiders and new people 
breaking into society. 

If Mrs. Snubbody-Jones was planning to play 
on Mr. Willoughby’s credulity with the design of 
prejudicing him against Prudence and her friends, 
she could not have gone about it more artfully. 
She permitted herself to become very much worked 
up over this matter. She even declared that out- 
siders and new people would be the death of her 
yet. 

Then she painted their character in the blackest 
colors. With diabolical cunning they were seeking 
to circumvent the elect. The awful spectre which 
she associated with their plotting was ever before 
her. It gave her no peace. She worried about it 
more than she cared to show. She did not like to 
see society becoming so popular. This was proof 
to her that new people were making their influence 
felt. Mrs. Snubbody-Jones shuddered as she 
looked into the future. If things kept on as they 
were going the old families would soon find them- 


SAINT MAMMON 


235 


selves shoved aside and new people dominating 
the situation. She hated to think what was likely 
to happen unless they were held in check. 

Society was getting along so well now. Her 
fear was lest outsiders and new people drag it down. 

“Ah, my friend, I am a martyr to my position,” 
she concluded. “Few realize what I have to bear, 
and there is nobody to sympathize with me. Some 
day you will remember what I tell you now.” 

At this Mr. Willoughby took the alarm himself. 
He regretted that he had accepted Prudence for 
an ally and registered a vow that he would not be 
responsible for any of her friends from this time 
forward. Bless my soul, he did not realize how 
dangerous such people were, until Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones made him understand their real character! 

Plainly Mrs. Snubbody- Jones was relieved to 
find that he shared her fears. She had his measure 
and knew how to handle him hereafter. He could 
be relied upon to do as she wished if things came to 
a crisis. Mrs. Snubbody- Jones had too much at 
stake to run any chances in case Prudence became 
dangerous. If she could maintain a neutral posi- 
tion while others were drawn into factional quar- 
rels, perhaps her prestige as a society leader would 
be increased. 

She was very gracious to Mr. Willoughby and 
even permitted herself to become interested in him. 
She appeared to be giving him her confidence with- 
out reserve and this could not fail to flatter his 
vanity. He belonged to her now, body and soul. 


SAINT MAMMON 


236 

Mrs. Snubbody-Jones assured him that society 
was the one passion of her life. She lived for it, 
she planned for it, and for it she was sacrificing 
herself. 

Her ambition was to make a syndicate out of 
it, so that she could control it absolutely. 

She proved how dearly she loved it by submit- 
ting to the burdens it put upon her. She could 
not help but feel that she was a martyr to it; but 
let that pass. Some day society would realize what 
she had endured. Some day — but she was Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones, and could afford to ignore things. 

In America we have succeeded in producing an 
untitled aristocracy that can rival the nobility of 
any other nation. 

How have we done this? 

By making a profession out of society. 

Nevertheless, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones was not 
afraid to admit that our system is not perfect. It 
suffers from too much sensationalism; in fact, it 
appalled her to note the effect of sensationalism on 
modern life. 

But, what can one expect in a land where out- 
siders and new people have so many opportunities ? 

At this point Mrs. Snubbody-Jones let fall a re- 
mark that gave Mr. Willoughby a new insight 
into her character. 

She declared it was a mistake to make the butter- 
fly the emblem of society. The crocodile would 
be more appropriate. 


CHAPTER V 


Outsiders and new people should be held re- 
sponsible for any blemishes the reader may be 
pleased to discover in the character of Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones. Freed from the burdens of her posi- 
tion, there is no telling what womanly traits she 
might have developed. As it was, she was in 
danger of becoming a perpetual mother of sorrow, 
worrying about society. 

Besides, she was forced to view life from the 
standpoint of the over-rich. The luxury of dis- 
appointment, the sweetness of self-denial — what 
could she know of these? All her desires were 
likely to be gratified as soon as she expressed them. 

In this connection it may be proper to ask 
whether Mrs. Snubbody-Jones’ feelings were genu- 
ine, anyhow. At times she permitted herself to 
believe they were. 

But she was very good-natured and not above 
taking an interest in others. It is on record that 
she once expressed sympathy for an acquaintance 
who had met with adversity; and at some public 
affairs she permitted herself to be pointed out to 
people who could never hope to meet her. 

It is only natural, however, that she should mur- 

237 


SAINT MAMMON 


238 

mur against her burdens provided there was no 
danger of her emotion being misinterpreted. One 
day she happened to be entertaining a foreigner of 
note, and she availed herself of the opportunity to 
pour out her heart to him. It is hardly necessary 
to state that he was very much affected by her tale 
of woe. 

This man was a personal representative of au- 
gust sovereignty at Washington and was simple- 
minded in spite of his knowledge of diplomacy. 
His training in politics should have taught him wis- 
dom; nevertheless, he showed himself ignorant of 
the ethics of sham, as applied to society in the land 
of the Stars and Stripes. For, when Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones revealed to him the peril that con- 
fronted this nation unless outsiders and new people 
were held in check, he was greatly startled. 

But it is very likely that the intense feeling which 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones permitted herself to display 
on this occasion was only skin-deep. It is even 
possible that this representative of august sover- 
eignty was not quick-witted enough to understand 
her. Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby was more clever. 
He discovered that Mrs. Snubbody-Jones took only 
a crocodile interest in many of the things that were 
forced on her attention. 

Mr. Willoughby understood at once what was 
the reason for this. He too had been tempted to 
play the hypocrite, and he had learned to counter- 
feit interest in things that did not appeal to him 
at all. If now Mrs. Snubbody-Jones was able to 


SAINT MAMMON 


239 


do this because she had taught herself to be a 
crocodile, Mr. Willoughby realized how it was 
she held the leadership of society against all 
comers. 

For genuineness is dangerous in the drawing- 
room at times. Artificial sentiment is far safer. 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, it seemed, could feign inter- 
est in a crocodile fashion and could work herself 
up to crocodile raptures, in a way to deceive most 
people. 

In the face of this discovery Mr. Willoughby 
became more enthusiastic over his patroness than 
ever. With his fine nature he felt that he could 
sympathize with her — in a crocodile fashion, at 
least. 

Imagine his delight now when she permitted 
herself to give way to crocodile emotion right 
before his eyes! Mr. Willoughby was moved to 
shed crocodile tears, he was so affected. 

For the crocodile idea, as Mrs. Snubbody-Jones 
conceived of it, was the refined art of appearing 
to be interested in things you do not care a straw 
about. It was the ethics of sham carried to the 
limit. 

If it was necessary to be moved by some trifle, 
she could pump up any amount of crocodile senti- 
ment at a moment’s notice. If, on the other hand, 
she desired to assume an air of indifference, how 
easily crocodile apathy came to her relief! 

Now we understand why so many people passed 
out of her memory. She only took a crocodile 


240 


SAINT MAMMON 


interest in them in the first place. We can also 
realize how she bore the burdens of the over-rich 
without breaking down under them ; and lastly, the 
reader can appreciate what a science fashionable 
life has become to those who make a profession of 
it. 

Mrs. Snubbody- Jones did not hesitate to criticise 
society itself from a crocodile standpoint, and Mr. 
Willoughby perceived that her strictures meant 
nothing. She said frankly that if it were judged 
by ideal standards, society was full of shams and 
humbugs. It cares too much for appearances, and 
its arrogance borders on the vulgar. But just look 
at it from a crocodile standpoint, and we form a 
higher opinion of it. Society is not false, except 
in a crocodile way. Its humbugs are only crocodile 
humbugs. Its follies are only crocodile follies. 
Neither is there sham in it, but only crocodile make- 
believe. 

She illustrated some of her views on this subject 
in a practical way about this time, when she very 
graciously permitted herself to be at home to the 
professionally-fashionable set. This affair was a 
fine illustration of the crocodile theory as applied 
to entertaining, and many people were highly edi- 
fied by it. 

Neither is the idea without its advantages in a 
country where society has become a profession, that 
only a few can follow. When people who have 
met season after season, come together again to 
discuss the same topics, it follows that there must 


SAINT MAMMON 


241 

be more or less acting at these great social func- 
tions. 

Then why not try the crocodile plan ? Let each 
and every guest be coached for the part they are 
to play, and understand beforehand just what topics 
are to be discussed, and how much interest it is 
proper to show in each. If any sensation is to 
be sprung it might be rehearsed at least a week 
before, so as to guard against blunders. 

In this way things would be simplified and the 
art of entertaining would become an art indeed. 
Guests would be able to study for a reception, very 
much as actresses study for the stage. People who 
were not on good terms with each other could patch 
up a crocodile truce for any occasion, and the duties 
of hostess would be rendered more agreeable. 

Probably Mrs. Snubbody-Jones had this very 
idea in mind when she brought together a lot of 
people who knew each other too well, and set them 
to acting like perfect strangers. She made them 
discuss topics that had already been worn thread- 
bare, without appearing to be bored by them. She 
even made them work up a crocodile enthusiasm for 
things they had all but wearied of — just because 
she managed to make her guests understand that 
she was only taking a crocodile interest in them 
herself. 

There are heights of rapture to which only 
crocodiles can rise. There is an ecstasy that a 
crocodile alone can feel. Mrs. Snubbody-Jones 
was able to impart such enthusiasm to the elect 


SAINT MAMMON 


242 

who gathered about her now to receive instruction 
from the leader of fashion and get ideas for the 
season’s programme. 

Wasn’t it sublime? Wasn’t it thrilling? 

Here were people that had tired of everything, 
beginning to take a crocodile interest in themselves. 
It was within the probabilities that under the croco- 
dile system they would find life worth living after 
all. As a crocodile state of being it might become 
tolerable even to these unfortunate over-rich. 

Yes, as Mrs. Snubbody-Jones declared, the croco- 
dile idea was the salvation of modern society. 

Not only so, but it was possible to bring about a 
social millennium, in which all should be crocodile 
peace and harmony. Mrs. Snubbody-Jones per- 
suaded certain of the elect who hated each other 
to join in a crocodile love-feast for this occasion. 

It had been, arranged that Mrs. Wayinit should 
recognize Mrs. Frontup, although the two had 
not spoken for months. Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller 
agreed to be nice to Mrs. Doneover, whom she cor- 
dially disliked. Great pressure had to be brought 
to bear on the two Mrs. Topcrusts to get them to 
act their parts. They only consented to be recon- 
ciled in this crocodile fashion for a brief evening, 
when it was pointed out to them that their obstinacy 
would be the one jarring note of the gathering. 
Under these circumstances they consented to bow 
and smile and exchange two remarks about the 
weather. 

But the sensation was reached when Mrs. 


SAINT MAMMON 


'243 


Humphrey Provost appeared in company with one 
of Mrs. Saltearth’s partisans, who had stood out 
longest against her. The two were very pleasant 
and chatted on subjects that had been furnished for 
the occasion as if they had become bosom friends. 
Except that everybody had been prepared for this, 
excitement might have run high. 

It was a great triumph for Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 
and the crocodile idea. Many people spoke of the 
affair with emotion and could scarcely restrain their 
tears. The picture of social harmony, with all 
spite, jealousy and bitterness forgotten for the time 
being, was touching to reflect upon. More than 
one member of the professionally-fashionable set 
had cause to recall it with regret afterwards, and it 
was referred to as an era of good feeling that 
bore fruit for the benefit of all. 

But there was one person present on this mem- 
orable evening to whom all this acting seemed real. 
Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby had been told that he 
was to make himself agreeable to Mrs. Freddy 
Topcrust and keep her from meeting her sister-in- 
law. Having been informed what was expected of 
him, he devoted himself to his task with all the 
ardor of a crocodile nature. 

But this was not his only part in the success of 
this great function. He had several other people 
on his list on whom he was to keep an eye, for fear 
lest a danger-point might be reached if they found 
themselves thrown with parties they hated. The 
tactful way in which he comported himself under 


244 


SAINT MAMMON 


such trying circumstances was not lost on Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones. 

Everything had been so well planned that the 
affair passed off in a glamour of refined hypocrisy. 
Much smart talk was indulged in without risk to 
anybody, and many bright things were remarked 
at the expense of people not in society. Was it 
not a pleasing sight to behold rival leaders saying 
sweet things to each other for appearances’ sake? 
Who could witness such gracious deportment and 
not be willing to endorse the crocodile idea ? 

Yes, it was a great triumph for Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones, and a vindication of her theories. 

But the reader is warned that only those who are 
capable of appreciating a professionally-fashionable 
reputation can understand these things. 

In any case society in all its phases must be taken 
seriously. It has risen to the dignity of a science 
now, and for fine acting the drawing-room threat- 
ens to rival the stage. 


BOOK V 


CHAPTER I 

When an author has climbed into the pulpit and 
has begun to lash the congregation of readers which 
has assembled to receive instruction from him, it 
is only to be expected that he will inveigh against 
the pomp and vanity of this wicked world with- 
out caring how hard he may hit some of his flock 
who are notoriously fond of its pleasures. As he 
looks down on the fashionably-dressed throng in the 
front pews, and reflects that all these people, out- 
wardly so pious, are only given over body and soul 
to the worship of the Almighty Dollar, his heart 
sinks within him. 

The text he has chosen may be burning into his 
brain, but he asks himself how he is going to prick 
the consciences of his hearers. How shall he per- 
suade them to renounce their idols and return to 
the true faith with pure hearts and minds purged 
from hypocrisy? Even though he have confidence 
in the miracle-working power of the truth he is 
proclaiming, he cannot but reckon the odds arrayed 
against him. 

The fact of the matter is, there is a villain in 


*45 


SAINT MAMMON 


246 

society to-day, and he is there to corrupt it He 
has learned the arts, he understands the refinements, 
and he can use them for his own ends. He is 
charming in manner, polished in speech, and is 
altogether too fascinating to be ignored by the most 
finical. 

Now the name of this villain is Mammon. 

We may meet with him at any moment, and 
doubtless have seen him a score of times without 
recognizing him. For he is so expert, this villain 
of to-day, he can make himself invisible at will, 
and possesses other miraculous powers. Like the 
god Vishnu, he can take on any form to foil those 
who labor for his extermination. He can hood- 
wink pious people, and he has even been known to 
ascend into fashionable pulpits and write his dam- 
nable mockeries into the minister’s sermon. 

Yes, he is very clever, this villain of to-day. 
You may behold him of an evening flirting with 
the season’s belle, and pouring into her ears tales 
of rich husbands. How she laughs as he tells her 
that love and riches go together ! He can say the 
wittiest things and turn the prettiest compliments, 
and he never fails to make himself popular wher- 
ever he goes. Some of the people that fawn upon 
him have more conceit than brains ; but the learned 
and the clever are glad to have his favor. He is 
present at the most select gatherings, and many 
silly people invite him to their houses for the sake 
of the standing he gives them. 

In short, Mammon has got such a grip on 


SAINT MAMMON 


247 


society it is impossible to shake him off. The 
great of the land do homage to him and the faith- 
ful never tire of telling the miracles he has per- 
formed, how the magic touch of his gold brings 
joy to them that mourn. 

It is the reader’s privilege to follow Madge 
Willoughby into this gay world of fashion, where 
Mammon reigns supreme, and where perpetual 
novenas are said in his honor. The reader is 
warned, however, that the author reserves the right 
to preach his doleful sermon against vanity and 
pride wherever his heroine leads him, be it in ball- 
room, drawing-room or boudoir. Mammon, it 
seems, can set up his shrine where beauty and inno- 
cence reign, and none may beat him prating about 
virtue. But go where he will, take on what shape 
he may, the writer of these pages will seek to un- 
mask him before the gay crowds who cringe for 
his favor. If, too, we venture at times to quarrel 
with the precepts laid down as a guide for young 
womanhood in thousands of refined homes through- 
out this money-worshipping land, we shall do so 
fearlessly and without thought of consequences. 
As long as society aims to teach veneration for the 
money power, and tries to carry covetousness to 
the extreme of refinement, it must expect that some 
rude moralist will not hesitate to rail at its hypoc- 
risy. 

Madge’s friends were to be congratulated on the 
sponsor they had found for her, now that she was 
to make her entree in the professionally-fashionable 


248 


SAINT MAMMON 


world, and be signed and sealed to the service of 
Mammon. Mrs. Humphrey Provost would be 
sure to impress on this neophyte the importance of 
the step she was taking. The golden chain that 
was to link her forever to fashion and folly and 
pride would be received as a pretty trinket. Some- 
thing would whisper in her ear: “I am Ambition. 
Command me!” until at last her sense of resistance 
would be dulled, and she would be freed from the 
thraldom of conscience. 

If her preceptress moralized on things refining 
and polite, she would be sure to do so from the 
standpoint of a woman of the world. Even matri- 
mony can be considered from a professional stand- 
point, and the Cupid of the Money Bags dotes on 
a good bargain. 

Just fancy being tied to a man that cannot afford 
to pay for your carriage! Fancy having to deny 
yourself luxuries, and wrangle with trades-people 
over their accounts! Love in a cottage is the 
dream of poets and visionaries. Money is the key 
to all happiness. It is power. It gives opportu- 
nity and position. America is a democracy of 
poverty with an aristocracy of wealth. 

It has come to be accepted in professionally- 
fashionable circles that a woman should only 
tolerate a husband if he be wealthy. It is a mis- 
take to assume that the over-rich are opposed to 
matrimony, provided it stands for something. The 
Cupid of the Money Bags is very popular with 
people who laugh at domestic simplicity. 


SAINT MAMMON 


249 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost was lecturing Madge 
one day on this very subject. When she was talk- 
ing at any length she waved a fan in a languid 
fashion, just to emphasize her remarks. Madge 
was inclined to take issue with her on this particu- 
lar occasion, it seemed. Possibly the spirit of wil- 
fulness was strong in her, and she liked to defy 
one who assumed such superior knowledge of the 
world and its ways. Possibly, too, there was just 
a taint of middle-class prejudice in her character, 
that would assert itself even now, to the mortifica- 
tion of her kind preceptress. 

Madge declared stoutly that she could not marry 
from selfish motives, because she was sure she could 
never learn to love in a practical fashion. 

The fan that Mrs. Humphrey Provost held in 
her hand waved more languidly at this outburst. 

“Love !” Prudence echoed, in some scorn. “No- 
body asks you to do that. Only marry well.” 

“Never!” cried Madge, in sudden fire. “I could 
never marry a man I did not love and esteem !” 

The fan moved so languidly now it scarcely 
seemed to move at all. 

“You are a strange child! Sometimes I think 
you have character. Isn’t it time for you to dress ?” 

Hereupon this highly excellent lesson ended for 
the present. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost could not be insensible 
to her protegee’s charms, and gave her no chance 
to indulge cheap sentiment. She noted with some 
alarm that Sir Lionel Dudley was beginning to 


250 


SAINT MAMMON 


show signs of admiration for her, and she took 
care to warn him that the girl was poor, and conse- 
quently was not a desirable party for him to exer- 
cise his fascinations upon. But the baronet had 
heard that American girls are deuced clever, don’t 
you know, and this one appeared to be a good sub- 
ject to study. 

One day he happened to be in the parlor when 
Madge entered the room. The baronet readjusted 
his eyeglasses and gave her a stare that was meant 
to be encouraging. But she feigned shyness. 

The Englishman looked puzzled. Perhaps, 
now, the girl was only making fun of him. 

Madge approached him, curtsying low. 

Really, now, she must be joking. 

She approached a little nearer and then began 
to back away from his august presence. 

The baronet was dumbfounded, and for a 
moment hardly knew whether to be indignant or 
not. 

She retreated towards the door, opened it, facing 
him still, and then with another bow backed out of 
it. 

The Englishman was amazed. He stared at 
the door a full minute, and then turned to the 
mirror and stared at himself for two good minutes 
by the clock. 

All at once he thought he heard a laugh — a 
silvery, mocking ripple of laughter, behind that 
door. 

He was fairly staggered. 


SAINT MAMMON 


251 

He rushed to open it and as he did so Mrs. 
Humphrey Provost, and not Madge, entered the 
room. 

There was a look on his face and a light in his 
eye that made Prudence quail for a moment. She 
had just passed Madge hurrying up the stairway, 
and she surmised that something was in the wind. 
The baronet threw the door wide open and stared 
into the hall above. 

“A very clever girl that!” he remarked, with 
an enthusiasm quite foreign to him. 

Prudence took the alarm. The little minx, she 
thought, I would like to tear her eyes out! But 
she only smiled faintly, and appeared to be amused. 

“A devilish clever girl, now!” the baronet said 
again. 

“Not only clever, but very pretty as well,” Pru- 
dence answered, in softest voice. “The men all 
admire her, and she wins everybody’s approval.” 

The baronet was stroking his iron-gray whisker, 
and he nodded assent to this. 

Prudence was in a quandary. 

“It is too bad she is so poor, though,” this 
paragon of tact and diplomacy hastened to add. 
“I have taken up with her at her friends’ request 
to get her into society and find a rich husband for 
her. She must have money, for she is penniless, 
and what does position and rank count for nowa- 
days without it?” 

The baronet checked himself in the very act of 
stroking his whisker. 


252 


SAINT MAMMON 


“Too bad, now! Really !” he said, with an 
energy that surprised himself. 

Then, as he beheld Mrs. Humphrey Provost 
looking at him keenly, he fell to surveying his fea- 
tures in the mirror. 

“I have planned a brilliant match for her,” Pru- 
dence continued, in the same soft tone. “Mr. 
Van Bridge Whist is the son of an old friend of 
mine, and he has money. I have got him over 
from Paris on purpose to meet her. I would be 
only too pleased if they were to take a fancy to 
each other, and I think they will.” 

The baronet turned from the mirror, took a 
chair, and stared straight at Mrs. Humphrey 
Provost. 

“Don’t you think, Sir Lionel Dudley,” Prudence 
said, with a laugh that was almost sarcastic — “don’t 
you think I have my hands full now? I must 
marry you to an heiress and find a rich hus- 
band for her. Neither of you has a penny, and 
both need a fortune. Yours is to be won by your 
title, and hers by her face.” 

The Englishman arose calmly and made her a 
stiff bow. Then he drew himself up to his full 
height and passed out of the room. 

Prudence winced for an instant, but recovered 
herself quickly. She smiled scornfully and the fan 
began to play faster. Then she became grave, and 
her eyes took on a dreamy expression. Could she 
be thinking how tall the baronet was, and how 
crushing his manner when his pride was touched? 


SAINT MAMMON 


253 

She sat for some time very still, and then, starting 
up with a white face, hurried from the spot. 

She kept an eye on Madge after this and did 
not permit the two to be alone for an instant. She 
was like a mother to the girl, and it was a sight 
to see them together. Of the two the elder woman 
appeared to be the more youthful. She had such 
a beautiful complexion. It was almost like a 
child’s. A philosopher who had made a study of 
the subject once declared that to have a good com- 
plexion, and to stand well in society, sums up the 
average woman’s ambition. 

But Sir Lionel Dudley did not unbend towards 
his hostess for many days, and he made it a point 
to be very polite to Madge when in the presence 
of them both. He was always gallant to her and 
always the fine gentleman. If he had planned to 
punish Mrs. Humphrey Provost, he could not have 
gone about doing so in a better fashion. How- 
ever, Prudence was too clever to betray her morti- 
fication. 

Another philosopher once declared that a 
woman’s every fancy hath a tongue, if we only 
knew how to interpret it. As Madge was quick 
to note little acts by which people show their feel- 
ings, it was next to impossible for Prudence to hide 
anything from her. 

There was a ball at Sherry’s, at which these two 
studied to checkmate each other. The baronet 
danced with Madge as often as he could, and Pru- 
dence sat neglected the better part of the evening. 


254 


SAINT MAMMON 


She saw sights that night that chilled her heart, 
in spite of her efforts to ignore them. For Madge 
had suddenly taken a flirting fancy into her head, 
and was coquetting with the baronet. Prudence 
bit her lip to conceal her vexation, and the fan spoke 
volumes. Once, as the couple flung by her, 
Madge’s eyes met hers, and the glance she got 
warned Prudence she had better be on her guard. 
Well, what if I did choose to be Lady Dudley? 
that glance seemed to say. You see I might if 
I tried, and who is to hinder? 

Prudence was very angry at first. She colored 
slightly, and bit her lip hard. What an ungrate- 
ful little traitor she had taken into her camp, to 
be sure! The glances of the two women began 
now to talk to each other. Prudence defied, de- 
nied, admitted, then begged. Madge was stub- 
born for a time, but finally promised silence, threw 
the baronet over, and accepted Jockey Van Hurdle 
for a partner. 

The baronet was annoyed. He put up his 
monocle and stared at Jockey as if he would annihi- 
late him. When the waltz ended he approached 
the couple to claim the prize again, but another 
young man got in ahead of him and led her away, 
so that he beheld her no more that evening. 

Prudence was almost pouting when he finally 
came back to her. 


CHAPTER II 


Happily the time has gone by when Americans 
and Europeans need quarrel about national vanities. 
The Atlantic Ocean is nothing but a pond in these 
days, and the people on both sides of it are well 
acquainted with each other. 

But at the period we are now treating about, the 
United States had not been recognized as a first- 
class power and it was not fashionable for foreign- 
ers to see any good in our institutions. We were 
having a quarrel with England that was hurting 
us in the eyes of the rest of the world, because our 
cousins took pains to abuse us to everybody. It 
was something about a swamp down in Central 
America that was supposed to contain more malaria 
than any other spot on the face of the earth. No- 
body would go there, except for the purpose of ex- 
perimenting with yellow fever, and nobody cared 
two straws about it. Nevertheless, the diplomats 
were congratulating themselves that they saw a 
chance here to work up an international crisis, and 
they soon had the two governments at loggerheads 
over this unhealthy section. 

Therefore, before Sir Lionel Dudley reached 
our shores he had formed prejudices against us. 

*55 


SAINT MAMMON 


256 

Nor is this to be wondered at in any case, because 
it was not so very long ago when the Englishman 
of the upper class confused the United States with 
Niagara Falls, and believed the Rocky Mountains 
were within shooting distance of the metropolis. 
Even in these more enlightened days the foreigner 
who permits himself to praise the sky-line of lower 
New York thinks he has put the natives under 
obligation to him. 

However, it is an open question whether this 
lack of appreciation was harmful. From the mere 
fact that Europeans had not discovered us we took 
pains to discover ourselves, and while we were 
about it we decided that we are a remarkable 
people. 

Just before the baronet left London somebody 
told him that all Americans are in trade, except a 
few who get out of the country. He had been 
warned what to expect in this land of strenuous 
hospitality. Americans, he was assured, like to 
surprise the unsophisticated stranger who seeks 
their shores with the idea of doing the United States 
without regard to the immensity of it. Such a 
man is sure to receive flashlight views of life that 
are apt to be startling. 

Accordingly, when the limelight was turned on 
him, the baronet simply stuck an eyeglass in his 
eye and prepared to be impressed. He was looking 
for something original, don’tcherknow — something 
in the Indian pow-wow line, and because he did not 
get it, he decided Americans are a commonplace 


SAINT MAMMON 


2 57 . 

sort of a people, much more commonplace than the 
English themselves. 

But he could not fail to make note of their 
energy, and one day he remarked it to a man he 
chanced to meet. 

“Yes,” answered the native, “there is something 
doing on this continent, all right. Pretty soon there 
will be something doing on the others. We are 
getting ready to take hold and run things. We 
are going to deck this old globe out just swell, 
and we are going to polish her up so she will want 
to put on airs to the other planets.” 

The baronet was so astonished at this remark 
he could only screw his monocle into his eye and 
stare into space. He began to suspect now that 
Americans are not so commonplace, after all. In 
fact, he decided they would bear a closer study. 

Meanwhile, the unceasing round of hospitality 
went on without abatement, so that he hardly had 
time to think. He was conducted to the clubs, 
monocle and all, and, like a lamb led to the 
slaughter, was turned over to the tender mercy of 
the professional jester. They told him stories, 
such as the natives of this land of strenuous free- 
dom can invent. It almost makes an American 
blush to have to acknowledge what his countrymen 
are capable of doing in this respect, particularly 
when they find a victim of the baronet’s type. It 
is positively shocking to have to record the number 
of jokes this good-natured and not over-brilliant 
Englishman had to endure. When they discov- 


SAINT MAMMON 


258 

ered that he was ignorant of their ways, they patted 
themselves to think they had found a listener at 
last. Everybody got the tip to tell him the yarns 
they had been keeping in stock, and some bores 
went into ecstasies over him. They said it was 
such a pleasure to explain a joke to him. He 
had managed to grasp several without having to 
consult a cyclopedia. One wicked wag even told 
him tales that had no point to them, and he was 
much edified when the baronet appeared to find 
them food for reflection. Soon he had succeeded 
in making himself very popular, and was voted a 
good fellow by everybody. 

One happy day society slowed up on him, so that 
he had an opportunity to look around and enjoy 
himself after his own fashion. A new lion was 
discovered, and, to the Englishman’s relief, the 
limelight was turned on him. Now the baronet be- 
gan to appreciate New York, and he determined to 
learn something about Americans as they are, and 
not as they act in drawing-rooms. Soon he found 
that people on this side of the Atlantic were not 
above vanity, but were fond of Europeans who 
sought their friendship in the right spirit and were 
willing to see good in republican institutions. Soon, 
too, the baronet was forced to admit that the United 
States was all its admirers claimed for it, and he 
would not have been surprised if he had caught 
himself in the act of celebrating the Fourth of July. 

In striking contrast to this amiable Englishman 
was the conduct of Mrs. Humphrey Provost’s 


SAINT MAMMON 


259 

other guest. Van Whist Bridges was a renegade 
American and an expatriate from choice. He was 
willing to admit that he first saw the light of day 
somewhere in the western continent, but this fact 
did not prevent him from disliking the United 
States and its institutions. He had been brought 
up in Paris, and had acquired the tastes and habits 
of a European. Indeed, there is good reason for 
believing that he had accepted some of the vices 
that prevail in all world centres, under the im- 
pression that they stood for cosmopolitanism and 
real culture. He had met Madge in Paris and 
admired her. He thought her very chic, just like 
a Frenchwoman, in fact. So, when his mother 
and Mrs. Humphrey Provost proposed a mar- 
riage between these two, he was agreeable to the 
notion. In fact he authorized his parent to act for 
him in the matter, with the understanding that he 
should not be expected to make love to the girl in 
the American fashion. Now the affair had 
progressed satisfactorily in every detail, except the 
trifling one of consulting the young lady’s wishes — • 
an Americanism that did not appear to give Mr. 
Van Whist Bridges any concern. He insisted on 
being French in everything. 

True, there had been some hitch in the matter 
of the dot. He had to be informed that a thing 
of this kind is not agreeable to Americans, who 
prefer to think they are marrying for love, even 
when they are marrying for money. He had con- 
sented to waive this point until he came to New 


260 


SAINT MAMMON 


York, when everything was to be arranged satis- 
factorily. Now, however, he felt it a duty he 
owed to himself to insist on this important item 
being settled at once. He was determined to stand 
on his rights, Americanism or no Americanism. 

In fact, he did not hesitate to tell Mrs. 
Humphrey Provost that he had not come to 
America to get a mistress. He could get plenty 
of those in France. He came to get a wife, and 
it was asking too much if he must court and win 
her, and stop to consider whether they were in love. 
In this strange land it appears their Declaration 
of Independence applies to matrimony even. The 
women are consulted about it. American girls go 
so far as to claim the right to choose husbands for 
themselves. No wonder they have so many di- 
vorces in the country ! 

He decided that Americans are barbarians. They 
don’t even know how to get married, and their 
ideas of love and affection must have come from the 
Stone Age. American women make slaves out of 
their husbands, and are the real rulers of society. 
American men are a henpecked lot, anyhow. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost had set her heart on 
this match for private reasons. She had inveigled 
the young man to New York in the hope she could 
handle him to better advantage. Frenchmen are 
past-masters in the art of love-making, although 
they go about matrimony in a cold-blooded sort of 
a way. She believed that Van Whist Bridges 
would rise to the demands of the situation when 


SAINT MAMMON 


261 

he was convinced that matches are arranged differ- 
ently on this side of the Atlantic. She assured 
him the American girl expects proof of affection in 
courtship. You must make love to one right from 
the start, and prove to her you are trying to marry 
her for her own sake. Madge would come into 
a handsome property some day, but she asked him 
to waive the matter of the dot and begin by winning 
the girl herself. 

But here he was obdurate. He considered that 
he had proved his affection by not insisting about 
the dot before this. Besides, he was not sure that he 
wanted to marry, anyhow. He was not satisfied 
in his own mind that he had sowed his wild oats 
yet. He had gone into this affair in the first place 
largely to please his mother. Matrimony was not 
to be taken lightly, from the American standpoint 
at least. This idea of falling desperately in love 
with a woman you expect to make your wife was 
new to him. Why didn’t somebody arrange these 
trivial details as they do in France? The way 
women are brought up in this country to follow 
the impulse of their hearts is monstrous. Love 
and sentiment before marriage ! What nonsense ! 
A mere American vulgarism ! 

In short, Bridges had raised so many excuses 
on the matter of the dot that Prudence was begin- 
ning to despair of the match, when Jack Allers 
appeared and brought affairs to a climax. Pru- 
dence was not long in discovering that Bridges irri- 
tated Jack Allers, and Allers irritated Bridges. 


262 


SAINT MAMMON 


Jack Allers disliked the Parisian for despising the 
land of his nativity, and Bridges disliked Jack for 
his very pronounced Americanism. Now Prudence 
formed a plan which she put into operation at 
once. She decided she could use Jack Allers to 
bait Bridges on. She had found him capable of 
jealousy and felt sure he would soon get so worked 
up over Jack as a possible rival that he would be 
willing to waive the dot altogether. 

Trust Prudence to play her cards cleverly enough 
now! Trust her to use Jack Allers for her own 
ends without exciting his suspicion! It is only 
just to her to state that she had succeeded in free- 
ing herself from certain superstitions about senti- 
ment, so that she was above such silly nonsense. 
Love with her would be simply an affinity of am- 
bition, and the Cupid of the Money Bags would 
be forced to approve her view of the grand passion. 

She had Jack Allers to dinner one day, on pur- 
pose to pit him against Bridges. It was something 
of a family affair. Mrs. Snubbody- Jones had been 
asked for Mr. Willoughby’s sake. He sat next 
to her and of course was blind to whatever was 
going forward. Some of the other guests were 
in Prudence’s plot and could be relied on to ignore 
things. But perhaps Prudence went too far in 
opening her campaign. She beamed on Jack Allers 
as if he were the darling of her soul, and in a way 
that was calculated to rouse his suspicion of her. 
One would have thought that she was just wrapped 


SAINT MAMMON 263 

up in him, whereas she had taken him up on im- 
pulse, and scarcely knew who he was. 

However, Jack did not refuse to respond to her 
advances, because he noted that it irritated Bridges 
to have her smiling upon him. It did not require 
encouragement to get him to measure himself 
against the Parisian. Madge was sitting between 
these two, and Jack was hitting at his rival through 
her. 

It must be confessed that Jack Allers was in- 
tensely American in all his prejudices. Besides, he 
understood this man, because he knew life and had 
been forced to study some of the worst sides of it. 
Pie could see the moral leper in the drawing-room 
dandy, and he only wondered that Madge did not 
read his character at a glance and reject his atten- 
tions. Jack Allers was too old-fashioned to ap- 
preciate her position now. Many of his best 
friends had said of him that he was a regular 
Puritan, and they had often commented on his 
melancholy temperament. The fact is, he was a 
bookish fellow, and perhaps, like too many scholars, 
he had a contempt for a narrowing environment. 
The man that can look back a thousand years can- 
not be expected to enthuse over events that hap- 
pened only yesterday. But sometimes learning 
disillusions the mind, even as it broadens it. Some- 
times it makes us lose faith in the present by com- 
paring it with the failures of the past. The trag- 
edy of human life, it tells us, may become comedy 
with the lapse of time, and vice-versa. As to the 


SAINT MAMMON 


264 

history of civilization, there has been a great deal 
of history with very little civilization in it. 

It was Prudence herself who started the conver- 
sation that gave Jack Allers a chance to air his 
hobby. As soon as he got going, however, she 
turned to her other guests and left him to hold 
forth ostensibly for Madge’s benefit, while he was 
really talking at Bridges. Jack was soon deep in 
history, proclaiming the past of America for Ameri- 
cans of to-day to venerate. 

Bridges opened his eyes wide. This was news 
to him. He supposed Americans had sense enough 
to admit that all they had to boast of in the way 
of culture, at least, they got by going to Europe. 
Americans were a people of Yesterday, a race of 
upstarts, who owed everything to the fact that 
Europe was opened to them. At least so Bridges 
believed, and it had never occurred to him that any 
American would have the face to argue otherwise. 

But Jack Allers declared to the contrary. He 
calmly stated that there had been a time when 
Americans did not go to Europe for their ideals, 
and he regretted the tendency of a certain class 
to do so to-day. 

Bridges opened his eyes wider at this. 

Americans stayed at home, Jack declared, be- 
cause they respected themselves and wished to be 
better Americans. They were too proud to imitate 
Europe to their own detriment. 

Bridges felt like laughing. Surely this man 
must be daft. 


SAINT MAMMON 


265 

“I tell you, Miss Willoughby, Americans owe 
more to themselves than certain of their critics 
are willing to admit,” Jack was saying now. “If 
our ancestors had not been self-respecting ladies 
and gentlemen we would be colonists still. It was 
the pride of American gentlemen that started our 
revolution, and if it had not been for this pride 
that revolution would have degenerated into a reign 
of terror, just as the French did.” 

Bridges began to be amused. Gentlemen in 
America before Europe took Americans in hand! 
How perfectly absurd! 

“Of course there were gentlemen in France, 
too,” Jack said, half ironically; “but the French 
people threw them over and appealed to the dregs 
of the populace. The French Revolution started 
in the slums. Our revolution started in the colo- 
nial manor. That is why ours succeeded and the 
French ended in the despotism of Napoleon.” 

Bridges condescended to look interested now. 

“If our fathers had not been such gentlemen,” 
Jack continued, “we would not have the govern- 
ment we enjoy to-day. You remember how they 
starved at Valley Forge, when all was lost but 
honor. Only gentlemen can do that. You remem- 
ber in the Declaration of Independence they 
pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred 
honor to the people for liberty. Only gentlemen 
would speak of their honor as sacred.” 

Bridges smiled. If there was anything he had 
a contempt for it was American self-esteem. 


266 


SAINT MAMMON 


“You know I am a Philadelphian,” Jack con- 
tinued, “and in slow Philadelphia we have some 
things we are proud of. We believe in America 
and its past. It is an education just to walk up 
Germantown Avenue and study those old houses 
which line that thoroughfare. They are proof 
enough that there were ladies and gentlemen in 
America in the colonial days.” 

Everybody appeared to be interested now, and 
Jack seemed to be talking to the entire table. But 
he was still hitting at Bridges in his quiet fashion. 

“It seems to me we need some conservative sen- 
timent to save our society from degeneration in 
these days, and for that very reason I would have 
Americans study this past of theirs. One thing 
is certain — degeneration is not American ; it comes 
to us from outside influences. In fact, it is op- 
posed to our puritanism, and we can repudiate it 
as decidedly un-American.” 

Bridges sneered now. This man was brazen- 
faced enough to insinuate that America was better 
off without Europe altogether. At this point 
Madge broke into the conversation. 

“But you must admit that we Americans are 
only transplanted Europeans,” she said. 

“On the contrary, I deny that statement in toto. 
We are a native race, if you please, as distinct from 
Europeans as they are from the Asiatics.” 

Bridges stared at this. Would anybody listen 
to this fellow now? 

“How do you prove that?” Madge asked. 


SAINT MAMMON 


267 

“Let me ask you a question. Are not the people 
of Europe emigrants from somewhere? Is there 
a pure native race in Europe itself? To-day we 
recognize the Germanics and the Latins as two 
races. But they can be traced to the same source 
in Asia. How then do we account for the differ- 
ent nationalities in Europe? Simply because dif- 
ferent emigrations of the same original race have 
settled in certain localities, and by isolation pro- 
duced national types. Now a number of these 
same nationalities have settled in America at dif- 
ferent times. They have united on a different 
basis and have formed a national type, as distinct 
as any in Europe.” 

“I see,” Madge said. 

But Bridges was too astonished by this way of 
treating history to notice the interest she was show- 
ing Jack Allers now. 

Jack was only human, and he could not resist 
the temptation to have a parting shot at this man. 

“Isn’t it about time to cry halt on these Ameri- 
cans who go to Europe, hear somebody abuse this 
country, and return to criticise everything in it?” 

Profound silence followed this home-thrust, and 
every eye was fixed on Jack now. 

“Because Europe is not satisfied with itself. It 
has rejected many things to-day it once held sacred 
and is quarrelling about some other things it is 
forced to hang on to. Let Europe settle its own 
troubles ere Europeans presume to tell us what we 
ought to do.” 


CHAPTER III 


The women of America are responsible for our 
social system, and everybody is expected to bow 
down to them. It is a daring thing to brave fem- 
inine wrath by criticising American society, as the 
writer has ventured to do. 

He will simply contend, however, that ever 
since it took on a professional tone it has under- 
gone a great change, and a professionally-fashion- 
able career is becoming more difficult. 

Consequently, many very respectable citizens 
may feel that there is no call for apology because 
they do not shine among the elect of fashion. They 
may not have the time to devote to society, nor the 
talents necessary to win prominence in it. 

It was very evident that Jack Allers was pre- 
destined to be a social failure in spite of the op- 
portunities that were being thrust upon him. He 
was too sure of his own opinions and too reckless 
about expressing them. In short, he was one of 
those unfortunate beings whose manifest destiny it 
is to pass out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones. 

Lest the reader be tempted to wonder why he 

268 


SAINT MAMMON 


269 

was tolerated at all, we beg to say again that 
Prudence had discovered he could be used as a 
rival to bait Bridges on. Further than this she 
had no use for him. Then, too, before she could 
find a chance to drop him an unexpected champion 
appeared to take his part. It chanced that Sir 
Lionel Dudley had overheard him speaking up for 
the American idea, and was much impressed by it. 
He sought him out later and congratulated him on 
his patriotism. 

“I am so glad to meet an American like you!” 
the baronet said. “It pleased me very much to 
hear you defend your own country and its insti- 
tutions for the benefit of certain people who seek 
to belittle them.” 

Jack was not long in discovering that the baronet 
was a good fellow. The man behind the title was 
all right. It appeared, too, that this admiration 
was mutual. When, therefore, the Englishman ex- 
pressed a desire to get better acquainted with him, 
Jack invited him to dine at the Mercury Club, and 
the baronet accepted gladly. The two had a cozy 
time together over their cigars, and when they 
parted, Jack Allers felt that he had made a friend 
of this good-natured nobleman. Soon he had the 
satisfaction of knowing that the baronet was sound- 
ing his praises before Madge herself. He de- 
clared that Jack was one of the cleverest men he 
had met in America, and his ideal of the self- 
respecting American gentleman. Prudence noted 


'270 


SAINT MAMMON 


that Madge seemed highly pleased at this and was 
very gracious to the Englishman in consequence. 
Clearly there was much in this girl that needed to 
be corrected. 

For the present, however, the only thing to do 
was to appear to take a lively interest in Jack 
Allers, and he suddenly found social honors being 
thrust upon him. He was invited now to affairs 
more or less exclusive, and was in the way of at- 
tracting the notice of some very nice people. His 
name would be shoved into a dinner list when some- 
body else could not be present, and he was accepted 
as a good man to hold down a chair and pose as a 
listener for a society bore. If Jack had only been 
a fair drawing-room strategist there is no telling 
what he might have been able to make out of 
these opportunities. Some professionally-fashionable 
reputations have been built on this kind of patron- 
age. But he was hardly the man to take up 
society, even in an amateur way, and he did not 
have the making of a lesser star in him. 

It is painful to reflect what chances were wasted 
on him. Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby was amazed 
at such stupidity as Jack betrayed. Bless my soul, 
he was the most impossible person he had ever 
met! Talk about throwing pearls before swine! 
Jack Allers would pass out of the memory of Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones, before she had a chance to find 
out who he was. 

But perhaps Jack Allers was getting more out 


SAINT MAMMON 


271 


of his experience than Mr. Willoughby supposed. 
He could not fail to note many things that must 
impress anybody with a sense for appreciating what 
a noble science that thing we call society has come 
to be. If he were inclined to be a bit critical of 
the professionally-fashionable stars he was privi- 
leged to meet, it was doubtless because he did not 
understand the crocodile standard advocated by 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, and accepted by Prudence 
and her friends, however unwittingly. A very 
clever man declared once that the only way to make 
an impression on society is by sticking a pin in it, 
anyhow, so that Jack Allers may be excused if he 
took a cynical view of the situation. It seemed to 
him that everybody was simply acting a part and 
there was no genuineness in anything they did. 
However, he soon decided that he did not blame 
them. 

For, if society is professional, it must be capable 
of finesse. 

In particular, Jack was privileged to witness the 
rise of a new star in the social firmament, and the 
experience could not fail to be edifying. This 
man, whom he knew slightly, had made a fortune 
in Wall Street, and was translated from the region 
of the bulls and bears to the society of the croco- 
diles. Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller (professionally- 
fashionable) discovered him and hastened to take 
possession of him in the name of Mammon. Then 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones very graciously permitted 


SAINT MAMMON 


272 

herself to approve of him, and henceforward he 
was numbered among the elect. 

Jack was invited to several affairs at which this 
new lion figured; but whether it was to fill out a 
list or take the curse of newness off him, he could 
not determine. In any case he was made to feel 
that this fortunate individual was a star of the first 
magnitude, and he himself was a mere gaseous 
nebula, or no star at all. 

But when the younger set got together, Jack 
was more in his element. These fledglings be- 
longed to the bud class, and were just being entered 
for a professionally-fashionable career, so that they 
had not yet been corrupted by the refinements of 
Mammon. It was a relief to meet Charley Poin- 
dexter or Dick Twaddleby, and sometimes Jockey 
Van Hurdle put in an appearance, just to see how 
the fillies were running. Poindexter was devoting 
himself to Miss Bangup, and everybody was talk- 
ing about it. It was something of a sight to behold 
this handsome couple in a ball-room. Everybody 
appeared to be watching them, and they were a 
study in good form. Jack also heard talk of Ham- 
ilton Bloodgood’s coming marriage. Rumor had it 
that a bull-pup would be best man at the ceremony. 

It is said that for the technique of politeness 
nobody equals the Turk, only his courtesy must 
not always be taken seriously. With some such 
reservation Jack accepted the favors showered upon 
him now. Were people glad to meet him ? Mere- 
ly a polite form. 


SAINT MAMMON 


273 

Did they express interest in anything he said? 
Merely a passing whim. Did they permit them- 
selves to become enthusiastic about some trifle? 
Simply an impression that would be ignored the 
next moment. Mrs. Snubbody- Jones was right. 
The crocodile idea was in line with social senti- 
ment. The professionally-fashionable set have 
their feelings and fancies selected for them, and 
they are only expected to act up to them. Genuine- 
ness would wear them out. 

Behold, now, to what philosophical heights we 
have lifted society in America! Not content with 
making a profession of it, we have almost suc- 
ceeded in evolving a science from it, and it is within 
the possibilities that we may enroll it among the 
high arts. 

The ethics of sham must be taken seriously, it 
would seem. 

However, Jack Allers was in love. It was the 
hope of seeing Madge that caused him to submit 
to all this patronage. If he had a chance to ex- 
change a few words with her in the course of an 
evening, he cared nothing for the condescension of 
the people he was forced to meet. How eagerly 
he drank in those few words, and how carefully 
he recalled them afterwards ! He would some- 
times lie awake half a night, going over a conver- 
sation he had with her and building air-castles, as 
only people in love can do. It was all delicious, 
all fascinating, all tantalizing; and of course it was 


274 


SAINT MAMMON 


all vulgar from the standpoint of fashionable senti- 
ment, and the Cupid of the Money Bags would 
laugh at such nonsense. 

Jack Allers was very stern with himself. With 
puritanical austerity he prescribed heroic treatment 
for any little weaknesses he fancied he discovered 
in his character. His sensitiveness made him 
smile at times, and he had a dignity that was almost 
morbid. With many people he seemed to take 
delight in making a poor impression. The whim 
might take him to paint himself in black colors for 
no apparent reason. His friends sometimes com- 
plained about this. They declared you had to find 
him out in order to appreciate him. He was a 
modern Puritan, given to self-immolation and de- 
lighting in self-chastisement. 

However, if Jack’s manner denoted pride, it was 
the kind of pride that is founded on self-respect. 
He was one of that type of American gentlemen 
whose innate refinement must express itself in spite 
of a democratic environment. This is not class 
pride; it is something higher and more individual- 
istic. Water seeks its. own level, and refinement 
cannot be ignored because the masses of the people 
choose to be vulgar. 

Once a woman had remarked of him that he was 
a man with a presence, and Jack took this as a 
compliment. To have been called handsome would 
not be so flattering. But to be noticed for a 
presence that betrayed a refined nature and a dis- 


SAINT MAMMON 


275 

tinguished bearing, was a compliment indeed. Per- 
haps Jack’s stern face forbade such levity. 

It was one of his theories that a man should be 
above weaknesses of all kinds. He prided himself 
on the fact that he could put himself in the way 
of temptations and ignore them. He could look 
vice in the face and sneer at it. He had a con- 
tempt for moral cowardice, and now that a great 
love had come to him and loftier ideals along with 
it, he despised what he had formerly been satisfied 
to reject. Jack Allers would have been a merciless 
judge to a certain class of sinners who are always 
clamoring for tolerance and preaching against 
the narrow-mindedness of those who reprove them. 

He would be very stern with his love. He 
would be on his guard lest it got the mastery of 
him. He might even expect the woman he loved 
to grow wings and turn angel on demand. Many 
men are capable of such inconsistency. They seem 
to think it is their privilege to look for superior 
beings to meet the requirements of their sentimental 
ideals. Women have no right to be purely mortal 
when men choose to worship one of them. If they 
are altogether human, what is the use of admiring 
them with such fervor? How can they hope to 
excite such refined passion if they are merely crea- 
tures of flesh and blood ? Clearly it is woman’s duty 
to pose as an angelic creature so men can offer her 
the incense of their adoration. 

Jack Allers went so far as to write poetry, just 
as an outlet to his sentiment. According to 


SAINT MAMMON 


276 

Schiller this is pardonable to lovers, anyhow, and 
therefore we quote Jack’s effusion without apology : 

SWEETHEART 

I 

Can’t you see with the eyes of love, Sweetheart, 

What is hidden from other eyes ? 

The soul awakes, and in rapture takes 
A sense that love supplies — 

That love alone supplies, Sweetheart, 

So that none but a lover can see ; 

And the soul’s great cry is a little sigh, 

That is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

11 

Don’t you know there’s a press of the hand, Sweetheart, 
That a lover alone can give ? 

And a glance so shy from a love-lit eye, 

That bids a lover live ? 

That bids a lover live, Sweetheart, 

F or the rapture that is to be ; 

And the crown of bliss is a first warm kiss, 

That is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

ill 

Don’t you know there’s a part of the soul, Sweetheart, 
That love alone can reveal ? 

And a burst of joy without alloy, 

That a lover alone can feel ? 


SAINT MAMMON. 


277 . 


That a lover alone can feel, Sweetheart, 

Or know what this joy may be ; 

When face to face we two embrace — 

It is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart! Sweetheart! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

IV 

Don’t you know there’s an old, old tale, Sweetheart, 
F or lovers to harp upon ? 

How two souls fill to a single thrill, 

And two hearts beat as one ? 

And two hearts beat as one, Sweetheart, 

In blissful ecstasy; 

I have dreamed of bliss, but this, oh this ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart! Sweetheart! 

It is only meant for thee ! 

Sweetheart ! Sweetheart ! 

It is only meant for thee ! 


CHAPTER IV 


None appreciate the failings of New York like 
those who love it best. America was a game of 
grab from the day of its discovery, and it is a 
game of grab to its children still. In America’s 
metropolis the game is carried to its limit. Only 
experts can hope to hold their own there. 

In Jack Allers’ opinion there were just two parts 
to New York City — the Wall Street district, where 
there was always something doing, and the Waldorf 
district, where there was always something to do. 
He often represented himself to his friends as a 
Wall Street hobo, by courtesy a broker. He had 
an office in a huge building which was a community 
to itself, and here he labored during banking hours; 
but when the underworked servants of Mammon 
were relinquishing the street to the scrub-woman 
and the office janitor he hurried up to the club dis- 
trict, where the real work of the day commenced. 
Or perhaps it would be proper to say the work of 
the night ; for the revelry of pleasure thrives best on 
gaslight. Once he got mixed up in a panic in Wall 
Street that was carried into the club district, and 
kept up until the stock exchange opened the next 
morning. But such chances to see a tragedy of 

278 


SAINT MAMMON 


279 

modern life with all its comic accomplishments 
were rare, and Jack made the most of them. This 
panic swept the financial world off its feet for about 
thirty-six hours, and at one time threatened to bring 
on chaos. To attempt to describe all that hap- 
pened during this brief but exciting period would 
call for the genius of a Dore or a Hogarth, accord- 
ing as a man felt inclined to view it from a tragic 
or a ludicrous standpoint. It was capable of either 
interpretation, and Jack did not know whether to 
laugh or cry over it. Frenzied men, having 
screamed themselves hoarse on the floor of the ex- 
change, fell back on their fists and pummeled and 
mauled each other like prize-fighters. Some of 
them rushed out into the street and fought in the 
gutter. Hats were smashed, coats torn, and faces 
disfigured. Then, the exchange having been de- 
clared closed, they threw themselves into cabs and 
hurried uptown to renew the conflict. 

Meanwhile the newspapers were exhausting the 
vocabulary attempting to impress on the public the 
peril that the nation was facing. From the 
agonized cry they sent up there was reason to be-, 
lieve that the reporters themselves had been caught 
on the wrong side of the market. 

But the uptown exchange was conducted very 
decorously. 

A stranger happening into one of the leading 
hotels or a club that evening, would have found 
either place crowded with well-groomed men and 
might have fancied a social gathering in the stag 


28 o 


SAINT MAMMON 


line was taking place. He would never suspect 
that the panic was on here too, and that this was 
the stock exchange in evening dress. He would 
remark how polite and courteous every one was, and 
what good humor reigned. This crowd, he would 
say, is a very congenial one, and is here to have a 
pleasant time. But he could not fail to note that 
every man carried a small book, and while they 
entertained each other in this pleasant fashion they 
would keep scribbling in an absent-minded way. 
How was he to know that one of these men was 
figuring on the fortune he had lost, and another 
on the fortune he had won? How was he to sus- 
pect that of those two talking and smiling over a 
bottle, the one was crying quarter from the other 
who had him at his mercy? Better than Wall 
Street loves a winner, it admires a good loser. 

One day Jack made a discovery that startled him. 
He saw a skyscraper going up in the Wall Street 
district, and on making inquiry, was informed that 
it was being erected on property belonging to the 
Willoughby estate. Moreover, the man who im- 
parted this information gave him to understand 
that the money to build it was being raised by the 
estate. Clearly, then, Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby 
could claim membership in the gilded order of 
millionaires. 

Jack was puzzled to account for all this wealth 
in a man who had lived so economically, and when 
he investigated further he learned something more 
about the private affairs of his relative. It seemed 


SAINT MAMMON 


281 


the Willoughby estate had rented its property long 
ago at cheap rates for these days and on long 
leases. This had kept it poor, but now as these 
leases were expiring it would soon have a princely 
income. 

There could be no doubt of it. Mr. Roosevelt 
Willoughby was a millionaire. He had hung on 
to a lot of property because it belonged to his grand- 
father, for sentimental reasons. The unpretentious 
way in which he had lived, the rigid economy he 
had always practiced, had been necessary to him 
once. He was so full of family pride he had 
been willing to stint himself in order to save the 
family acres. Now he was to have his reward. 
He belonged to the aristocracy of Mammon. He 
was bound to receive the homage that dollars com- 
mand in this land of the over-rich, and could take 
high rank among the plutocrats. Who will say 
money is not the dispenser of all joys in these days? 
Money is the modern god, and the dollar mark is 
fast becoming a sacred emblem. 

It was a question with Jack what the effect of 
this wealth might be on Mr. Willoughby. He had 
always had a sneaking respect for his refinements, 
even when sorely tempted to laugh at his foppery. 
He was a rare specimen of the old-fashioned gen- 
tleman one does not often see, and Jack had a 
weakness for the old-fashioned standards. But 
what effect would wealth have on him? 

And Madge? Ah, she was his heir, and would 


282 SAINT MAMMON 

be very rich some day. How far she seemed from 
him now ! 

He grew angry at society once again. What is 
it preaching but money worship, anyhow? It 
tries to set up a standard of refinement, gloss it over, 
but its avarice is as vulgar as the vulgarest. Look 
at these society belles ! Nothing appeals to them ex- 
cept a bank account. The Cupid of the Money 
Bags does not believe in sentiment. The kind of 
romances he is interested in is not of the Romeo 
and Juliet order. What does he care for hearts? 
He is peeking into pocket-books to see if the game is 
worth bagging. Soon they will be teaching that 
avarice is superior to love itself. 

There is reason to believe that Jack Allers was 
passing into that moody state young people some- 
times experience when they suffer from unrequited 
affection. 

He could see Madge being offered up on the 
shrine of Mammon, and the thought maddened 
him. In this age the finest women are schooled to 
sell themselves for gold into wedlock, and they 
are shameless about it. So he argued, and he began 
to fear that Madge would yield to the influences 
around her in spite of everything. Of course, he 
did not care about himself; lovers never do. He 
did care for her, and for her only. Why did not 
her family warn her against the temptations of a 
brilliant marriage? In Jack’s eyes, every man in 
New York might be as madly in love with her as 
he was. Who was this Mrs. Humphrey Provost, 


SAIN T MAMMON 2 8 3 

anyhow ? What was the secret of her power over 
the girl? Jack could not make anything out of 
her. He was beginning to suspect that she was his 
enemy. Where did she come from? Who was 
she ? There were stories whispered to her discredit, 
that anybody might hear. She appeared to be 
wrapped up in Madge, but was her influence on the 
girl for good ? He had heard it said she was a very 
clever woman, but heartless. Evidently a good 
party to make a Mammonite out of a young lady 
who was capable of better things. Jack determined 
to study her, and try to know the real woman be- 
hind the society mask. 

One day, as he was hurrying along Wall Street, 
he noticed a handsome woman come out of a build- 
ing and hurry to a carriage, while a well-known 
banker obsequiously pushed his way to the curb be- 
hind her. Jack stared. The woman was Mrs. 
Humphrey Provost! 

Fortunately, she did not recognize him. She was 
so taken up with the banker she did not raise her 
eyes. The two conversed together for a moment, 
and then the carriage drove away. 

Jack walked off, musing, his curiosity getting the 
better of him. What was she doing here? he kept 
asking himself. What was her errand? At last 
he decided to find out. 

He knew one of the clerks in this same banking 
house, and he determined to sound him in the mat- 
ter. It was very easy to get him out to lunch, but 
it was hard to pump him about anything relating 


284 


SAINT MAMMON 


to the firm’s clients. Jack described Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost to him, noting the incident and prom- 
ising secrecy. Assured that the matter would go no 
further, the young man finally consented to en- 
lighten him. He was a facetious youngster, and 
spoke of his employer as “his nibs.” 

“That woman ! I will tell you, my boy. I don’t 
know her name, mind, and I don’t want to know it. 
But I can guess she is one of the way-ups, all right. 
Well, sir, she knows business, and, what is more, 
she has heavy interests in the Street. I know she 
is worth a million or two, and she may have more. 
His nibs crawls to her, and when his nibs crawls 
to any man or woman there is something in it, and 
you can gamble on those. If all women had as 
much business sense as she has, they could afford 
to support a husband.” 

“You amaze me!” Jack cried. “What does it 
mean ?” 

“It means, my son, that in her case the new 
woman has ‘came.’ All I can say is, that if they are 
like her, yours truly is looking for a wife to take 
care of him. This beauty has been coming down 
to the Street for years now, without anybody being 
the wiser for it. It means that she is a stockholder 
in several large corporations, and prefers to look 
after her own interests, instead of trusting them 
to some man who might cheat her, or try to make 
her believe the moon is made of green cheese. But, 
come, we must not spy on a lady. It would not 
be polite, you know.” 


SAINT MAMMON 


285 

Jack Allers was dazed. He often had occasion 
to note what a beautiful creature Mrs. Humphrey 
Provost was — one of the most beautiful he had 
ever beheld. He had often watched her in the 
effort to study the woman behind the society mask, 
but this was a revelation that rather staggered him. 

That very evening it chanced that he was attend- 
ing a party at which Mrs. Humphrey Provost was 
creating no little attention by her wit and beauty. 
He saw her the center of attraction in a crowd that 
was made up of fine men and handsome women, 
easily outshining them all. Certainly there was 
nothing unwomanly about her now. She was bril- 
liant, charming, lovable, a very queen of the draw- 
ing-room. One would be apt to think of her as a 
gentle creature that needed protection against the 
slings and arrows of fortune. But who would sus- 
pect that among her other accomplishments she pos- 
sessed talents that a financier might envy? 

Jack Allers was old-fashioned in many of his 
ideas, and this woman amazed him. He watched 
her very closely that evening, and the impression 
he got of her fairly made him thrill. Heavens! 
What a creature! How womanly, and yet how 
bold and daring! Is there anything she need 
stop at? Was there anything she could not be if 
she chose? Her beauty was simply irresistible, and 
her manner — those things that move the ear to 
music, and the voice to break out into song; those 
things that thrill the senses, and persuade the heart 
to love; those things that raise the soul above the 


286 


SAINT MAMMON 


limitations of the flesh — all these were stamped on 
that woman’s fair brow. 

Was she dangerous, or was she, too, a woman, 
and therefore to be won? Or perhaps, after all, 
she was only in love with herself. Jack noticed 
how she always greeted him with a counterfeit 
smile, such as only a society woman can assume ; she 
understood the technique of the drawing-room, all 
right. When and how to excite admiration, when 
and how to rouse interest, when and how to be 
amusing — all these she knew. Manner can be as- 
sumed, it need never be real ; but it must be correct 
to keep up the deception. 

Jack had heard whispers of her unhappy mar- 
riage. Suppose, now, the blame was not all her 
husband’s, although he was said to be a degener- 
ate? It did not seem possible that a man could 
have a wife like that and be indifferent to her. It 
might be she was at fault, perhaps. 

But Jack cautioned himself not to be too hard 
on her. He was in no position to judge her, and 
he did not wish to be intolerant. He was always 
preaching liberality to himself on the score of char- 
ity, and he felt there was need of it in these days. 
There are too many people in the world who do 
not know what temptation is themselves and can- 
not allow for it in others. Their lives have been 
hammered down into a rut of self-denial, so that 
they could not escape from it if they tried. Per- 
haps they would not be averse to a little quiet sin- 
ning if their sphere of activity were not so lim- 


SAINT MAMMON 287 

ited. As it is, they are in danger of becoming 
bigoted in their theories of virtue. 

In America, where woman is queen, we pride 
ourselves on our chivalry. The man American is 
long-suffering and of great patience in his dealings 
with womankind. He hates kings and despots, but 
is ready to bow down to the tyranny of a petticoat. 
He is living in the hope that the American girl 
will rebel against Europe some day and give her 
heart to America alone. Perhaps then she will 
want to build a monument to the American man. 

During the panic Jack was too busy with his 
own affairs to pay attention to anything else. But 
one day, when things had calmed down and assumed 
the former routine of dullness, he saw Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost leave the same banking house. Her 
face was radiant, and there was a light of triumph 
in her eyes. 

Jack met the clerk later. 

“Well?” 

“She won. Her deal went through. She was in 
it with his nibs, and on the ground floor, too. They 
took a big chance, but stood in to make a big haul. 
That woman is a financier ! She is worth five mil- 
lions now, if she is worth a cent!” 

Jack Allers gave a long whistle by way of com- 
ment on this intelligence. 

But the reader is more fortunate than Jack Allers 
in this connection. He is privileged to know that 
Prudence had not been championing certain mil- 
lionaires, who were anxious to get into society, for 


288 


SAINT MAMMON 


nothing, and this was their way of paying her for 
services rendered. Jack’s friend had exaggerated 
somewhat. She had not been dabbling in finance 
for a number of years. This thing was new to her, 
and she was acting on hints furnished by certain 
new people who had been accepted among the pro- 
fessionally-fashionable set by her efforts. Neither 
was she as rich as the young man said. Neverthe- 
less, she had a bank account now that some million- 
aires would not sneer at. 


CHAPTER V 


America is the land of the feminine leader. 
Therefore we must expect to produce the feminine 
snob. If it is true that the Lord made the first 
woman, it goes without arguing that she must have 
been a perfect creature. But the devil may have 
been turning out counterfeits of her ever since. 
At least, this is the explanation one is tempted to 
give in order to account for certain weaknesses that 
the fair sex has developed under modern culture. 

Even a man in love cannot be blind to some of 
these. Infatuated as he was, Jack Allers began to 
be fearful that Madge was not strong enough to 
resist the snares of Mammon that were laid so clev- 
erly for her. If the girl trusted to her own con- 
science he had no fear of the result; but she was 
not above vanity, and her head might be turned by 
flattery, like many other women’s. 

Something told him that Mrs. Humphrey Pro- 
vost was exerting a bad influence over the girl. He 
realized what the peril was if this were true. Pru- 
dence was so clever it would be hard work to coun- 
teract her. He was satisfied that she was his enemy, 
and therefore he despaired for himself. 

Not but what she was always polite to him — that 

289 


290 


SAINT MAMMON 


was just the trouble. Her suavity hid her hate. 
Jack chafed as he thought how this woman was 
damning him by faint praise. Here he was made 
to look contemptible, and unable to defend him- 
self. His only hope was that Madge would tire 
of this refined bullying, and be moved to take his 
part. In any case, he would have to ignore it. 

But Jack’s fears were groundless, so far as 
Madge was concerned. She was beginning to have 
an admiration for him. It chanced one day that 
she met a noted savant at a woman’s club, and she 
quoted something to him that Jack had told her. 
The man was charmed. He had always understood 
that American girls were clever — this one was 
learned. He spoke to his hostess about her after- 
ward, complimenting her very highly. 

Madge was in great glee. Evidently Jack was 
a man worth quoting. She decided that she ought 
to see more of him, if only to get ideas out of him. 
One afternoon she chanced to spy him strolling on 
Fifth Avenue, in the neighborhood of the park. 
She followed him until she caught up with him, and 
then she made him walk with her. 

“Why have you been keeping away from me 
lately?” was her abrupt greeting. 

“Have I?” 

“Indeed, you have! I have missed you, too. 
Doesn’t that flatter you ? I need not ask what you 
have been doing with yourself. You are always 
serene.” 


SAINT MAMMON 


291 


“Now you do flatter me. I like to be thought 
a strong character.” 

“Does anybody question it?” 

“Once I was told I had a weak will. That was 
when I was younger. I flatter myself that could 
not be said now, however.” 

“You weak! I can’t imagine it!” 

“They couldn’t say so now. Character-building 
is one of my hobbies.” 

“What is your rule?” 

“It sums up in the old Greek saying, ‘Know thy- 
self.’ ” 

“But you are a man.” 

“Yes, but I have all the limitations of manhood. 
Men crave for the experiences of life, you know. 
Women are satisfied with ” 

“What?” 

“I was going to say love. I will make it society.” 
“Oh!” 

The scene about them was a brilliant one, and 
Madge seemed to be in perfect harmony with it. 
Jack noticed how well she carried herself. When 
she walked it looked as if her whole body was a 
spring. 

“You don’t believe in love, then?” 

“Certainly.” 

“As how?” 

“Once upon a time a maiden fell in love with 
the only son of the president of a big trust. She 
said to him: ‘I could share a trust with you, and 
be happy.’ ” 


292 


SAINT MAMMON 


“And how about matrimony?” 

“I think I have read the secret of man’s fall in 
that connection. The devil whispered matrimony 
to Eve in Eden. He showed her how Adam would 
have to support her, and she could get alimony 
later. Then we fell.” 

“I see you are getting to be socially orthodox. 
I shall begin to have hope of you now. But I don’t 
like frivolous talk from you. I hear too much of 
that, as it is. Tell me something serious. What 
have you been thinking about lately?” 

“I have been moralizing on the problem of mod- 
ern life, and have reached the conclusion there is 
not enough sentiment in it.” 

“How is that?” 

“I claim that Americans of to-day only care for 
America of the present, and consequently they have 
become very selfish and mercenary. They have 
thrown the America of the past behind them, with 
its traditions and its ideals, and they don’t consider 
the America of the future, either. One excuse for 
this is the number of emigrants in the country. You 
can’t expect these newcomers to care for the Amer- 
ica of the past when it is new to them. The natives, 
who should have sentiment on this head, have re- 
jected it in the competition with these newcomers. 
Now the America of the present is the richest coun- 
try on the face of the earth. Taking America un j 
sentimentally, everybody is trying to get its wealth, 
regardless of principle. At last, things have reached 
a scandalous stage, and we must go back to the tra- 


SAINT MAMMON 


293 

ditions of the fathers. That is to say, we must put 
more sentiment and more patriotism into modern 
life.” 

“If sentiment were to be in order, women would 
have their real opportunity, wouldn’t they?” 
Madge said. “We are supposed to be better at 
sentiment than men.” 

“You are right. But women have a field al- 
ready. It is society. We must teach sentiment to 
men. These practical fellows say sentiment doesn’t 
pay — there is no money in it. Sentiment does pay. 
There is something more precious than money in 
it — there is the life of the nation.” 

“You are always convincing. Your ideas of prac- 
tical sentiment are good. But how about the real 
article?” 

“Let me tell you something,” Jack replied. “I 
am willing to admit that there are many things 
in womanhood that I do not understand. I am ask- 
ing myself now' if women understand what man- 
hood is. If a man marries a fine woman, isn’t it her 
fault if he does not become a fine* man?” 

“Another one of your hobbies?” 

“Yes, and I have many such. The other day 
I met a charming woman. She is a power among 
the women’s clubs. Everybody that comes in con- 
tact with her feels her wonderful personality. She 
is married. I told myself I must see her husband 
just once, then I would know whether she was ca- 
pable of making a gentleman out of a man.” 

“Well?” 


294 


SAINT MAMMON 


“I have met her husband. He entered the room 
with a manner that impressed me at once. He acted 
as if he were being ushered into his wife’s presence, 
to be presented to her friends. The greeting he 
gave me pleased me very much. Now that fine 
woman understands what a fine man should be, and 
her husband is proof of it.” 

“If you had a wife?” Madge asked. 

“If I had a wife, I would expect her to make a 
finer man of me.” 

“Look at that turnout! Isn’t it stunning!” 
Madge interrupted. 

But Jack could only look at her. 

“I read your character differently at times,” he 
continued. “I am afraid the life you are now lead- 
ing engrosses you too much. I almost fear you will 
have to meet with some unpleasant experience to 
bring out the best that is in you.” 

“You really think I need such?” 

“I don’t know. There comes a period in all our 
lives when we sit in judgment over ourselves. I 
hope yours won’t come as the result of a sudden 
shock.” 

“Do you think society so frivolous that it is cor- 
rupting?” 

“I am afraid I do. I attended the opening night 
of the opera this year, and, of course, I was fas- 
cinated by the sight. I had a seat where I could 
study the audience, and I became so interested I 
forgot what was going on outside the boxes. Here 
is American society, I told myself. Where in the 


SAINT MAMMON 


295 

world could this display be equaled? But, on sober 
second thought, I questioned if it were not a bit 
sensational and too spectacular. The operatic stars 
were being overshadowed by society queens. Peo- 
ple forgot whether a prima donna was in good 
voice in the excitement of seeing some woman make 
a hit with a new gown. There was just a touch 
of outstaging the stage in it all. At least, so it 
impressed me.” 

“But what kind of society would you have?” 

“Ah! There is a question for a woman to put 
me on my mettle. Society in America is woman’s 
world. Business is man’s. We cannot get along 
without society, any more than we can get along 
without women. Now let me think. It is very 
daring in me to presume to dictate to woman’s king- 
dom. There are some very nice people living in 
New York on small incomes. I visit a few. I find 
them very refined and truly cultured. Their names 
never get into the papers in any connection, and they 
would not care to have them. They come up to my 
ideals.” 

“You are for a conservative element, then?” 

“I dislike these people who go to Europe, and 
then come home to discover their own country. I 
know a few such. I have hopes one of them will 
discover the Mississippi River shortly. De Soto 
did it once, but of course that doesn’t count.” 

“I fear you are a regular Puritan, as everybody 
says.” 

“Now you compliment me. Now I am on my 


SAINT MAMMON 


296 

real hobby. Puritanism is the foundation-stone of 
the American character. It stands for what is down 
under the skin and is bred into the bone of us all. 
Let the pessimists croak their dismalest, there is 
something in Americans that stays. Puritan, and 
son of a Puritan, and proud of it! There you 
have it. In spite of the restlessness of modern life, 
in spite of the discontent of modern society, Ameri- 
cans have a chart to sail by. We are not the kind 
of race to put on sackcloth and ashes and cry ‘Mis- 
erere !” while the deluge sweeps over us. When the 
saltiness of the American character shall have lost 
its savor, with the Puritanism of our forefathers it 
shall be salted again.” 

“Here we are at the hotel,” Madge said. “You 
must come in and take dinner.” 


BOOK VI 


CHAPTER I 

Surely, anyone who is able to reveal the inner 
workings of society to the uninitiated may pose as 
a public benefactor. The process of beatification 
by which new people are enrolled among the elect, 
cannot fail to be interesting. It does not follow, 
however, because an author can introduce his read- 
ers in high quarters that he claims to be an author- 
ity on matters so technical. 

The ethics of sham are a study in themselves, and 
the social mysteries are only known to those who 
have made them their life work. Indeed, it is sus- 
pected that fashion purposely changes its calendar 
from time to time just to confuse the unregener- 
ate. 

Furthermore, the writer can plead that he is only 
a man, and why should any male creature presume 
to set himself up as a specialist here? It is well 
known that society is woman’s realm, and she is 
responsible for its conventional tone. 

Even Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby was willing to 
concede that his knowledge of it was limited. To 
297. 


SAINT MAMMON 


298 

his thinking, the way to acquire a professionally- 
fashionable reputation was to win the favor of Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones, and try not to pass out of her mem- 
ory. However, he was not recommending this plan 
to everybody, because of its dangers. 

Let us try to look the situation squarely in the 
face. The over-rich must have a profession to 
take up their time, and exploit their talents. What 
is the matter, therefore, with a professional society? 
Having established it themselves, it is only natural 
that they should seek to monopolize it and keep out- 
siders from their chosen field. 

Mrs. Snubbody-Jones had very advanced ideas 
on this subject. She believed that society would 
have to be syndicated some day, in order to hold its 
different sets together. 

But if there must be more light on this refined 
science, perhaps it would be well to call attention 
to the crocodile system. For by its aid any aspirant 
can hold himself above the snubs and heartburns 
that beset the road which leads to favor. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby had accepted it now, 
and he found it a great comfort to him. A man 
of his fine feelings could not fail to be moved by 
the tribulations of the over-rich which he was forced 
to witness daily. The pathetic efforts of these un- 
fortunates to get happiness out of life when they 
had exhausted the gamut of luxury — who could be- 
hold these things unmoved? Crocodile sympathy 
was what these people needed, and he was ready 
to offer them any amount of it. 


SAINT MAMMON 


299 

When some aristocratic woman would unbosom 
herself to him, bewailing her hard lot because luxu- 
ries had been piled upon her until they had become 
nauseating, what but crocodile stoicism enabled Mr. 
Willoughby to hear her tale of woe? A shock of 
real feeling might be serious in such a case, but by 
schooling himself to feel only the crocodile kind, he 
was proof against morbidness. 

Dainty ladies were pouring into his ears their 
crocodile despairs, and he was cheerfully giving 
them all the crocodile pity they yearned for. Bow- 
wow tragedies, that would melt a heart of stone, 
were brought to his notice, and except that he dis- 
liked dogs, even crocodile fortitude might have 
failed him at this point. One woman informed 
him, with tears in her eyes, that her dear, darling 
doggie had refused to eat chicken livers, after stuf- 
fing himself with them until he was in danger of 
suffocation. Mr. Willoughby found that he was 
constantly having calls for crocodile emotion, that 
must be pumped up at a moment’s notice, and he 
soon learned to respond to this demand. It was 
twang the harp, more tears — crocodile tears, of 
course — whether it be about a pup’s appetite or a 
domestic tragedy. 

Truly, the burdens of the over-rich are hard to 
bear ! 

Mr. Willoughby took a crocodile delight in his 
experiences now, and he worked himself up to 
heights of crocodile rapture that were surprising. 
One day he attended a bow-wow reception, at which 


300 


SAINT MAMMON 


the guests were led in by a groom at the end of a 
dog chain, and, on being presented to the hostess, 
barked. Everything served on this occasion was in 
the shape of a bone. 

But it was in gossip that he found his greatest 
delight, and a crocodile memory was right in his 
line. He could be deeply moved by anything con- 
fided to him, and forget all about it the next mo- 
ment. Those awful scandals, too, how delicious 
they were when viewed from a crocodile standpoint ! 
Mr. Willoughby heard reputations torn to 
pieces, and only smiled. He showed a proper ap- 
preciation of crocodile penance also. When Mrs. 
Highroller expressed contrition for some of her ac- 
tions he was deeply touched by this ingenuous out- 
burst of crocodile remorse. Of course, he did not 
expect her to be putting on sackcloth and ashes be- 
cause of it. He realized that it was only a croco- 
dile pricking of the conscience that caused her to 
speak as she did, and she would forget about it five 
minutes afterward. 

In short, thanks to the crocodile idea as pro- 
claimed by Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, society could or- 
der its feelings very much as it did its clothes. 

However, Mr. Willoughby could not claim all 
the honors as a crocodile now. Mrs. Humphrey 
Provost was running him neck-and-neck, and suc- 
ceeded in duping some very incredulous people. One 
stupid party, to whom she had gone with her tale, 
believed she really meant it when she said she de- 
sired a reconciliation with her sister-in-law. She 


SAINT MAMMON 


3 01 

even went so far as to write Mrs. Saltearth, describ- 
ing how society had gone over to Prudence, and 
how everybody, on hearing her story for the first 
time, believed her a persecuted woman. She then 
implored Mrs. Saltearth to try to make her brother 
return to the wife who was pining for him, and 
closed with a glowing account of the way Prudence 
was carrying the town. 

The effect of this astonishing piece of informa- 
tion was to cause Mrs. Saltearth to cut her trip 
short and hurry to New York as fast as railroad 
and steamer could carry her. But what an America 
she was returning to ! She had left it an acknowl- 
edged rival of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones herself; she 
came back to find the town against her. Her most 
trusted friends hurried to her with the startling in- 
telligence that it would be impossible to crush her 
sister-in-law as easily as she had hoped. Prudence 
had proved herself necessary to certain people, and 
would be sure to put up a strong fight. They all 
cautioned her to be careful how she acted, and some 
of the boldest hinted that it would be well for her 
to cloak her real feelings and appear to accept the 
situation. 

Mrs. Saltearth was too dazed to know just what 
to do at first, and while she hesitated Prudence 
made a shrewd move that further strengthened her 
position. She held out the olive branch very tact- 
fully, taking care to let everybody know that she 
had offered to forget her wrongs. It was Mr. Wil- 
loughby himself who acted as emissary and made 


3°2 


SAINT MAMMON 


the advances that were to heal the breach in the 
family. It goes without saying that he comported 
himself well under such trying circumstances, be- 
cause Mrs. Snubbody-Jones begged him to do so. 
He was somewhat dazed when his overtures were 
rejected. In his opinion it was folly to oppose Pru- 
dence now. Bless my soul ! hadn’t Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones recognized her ! Until she passed out of her 
memory, it betrayed a weak mind to quarrel with 
her. 

However, if Prudence had called in person, in- 
stead of sending a third party to act for her; per- 
haps if she had sought to mollify the wrath of her 
enemy, something might have been accomplished. 
But who shall say that this was what Prudence de- 
sired? Her move was certainly a clever one, but 
was it sincere? It was calculated to win her the 
good opinion of disinterested parties, and if her 
offer should be rejected, Mrs. Saltearth could be 
blamed for choosing war when she might have had 
peace. 

Moreover, Mrs. Saltearth was so lost in admira- 
tion of her rival’s boldness she might have consent- 
ed to be friendly if Prudence had approached her 
openly and showed her sincerity. For her sister- 
in-law almost forgot her hate for the moment in 
her amazement at the things Prudence had been 
able to do in the face of great obstacles. On 
first impulse, she was tempted to get up before 
everybody and applaud the woman who had out- 
generaled her so cleverly. 


SAINT MAMMON 


3°3 


This adventuress, who had raised herself from 
nothing, and through a fortunate marriage had 
found an opportunity, had actually succeeded where 
so many, more happily situated, had failed! She 
was a genius. There was no other explanation for 
it. She was a genius, and the chances she had taken 
were amazing. How had she dared? But the read- 
er will understand that Prudence was a far cleverer 
woman than some stupid people, Mrs. Saltearth 
among the number, had supposed. 

To Mrs. Saltearth, society was life itself, and 
anybody that could handle it like this was worthy 
of her esteem. As she looked about her and saw 
how complete Prudence’s triumph had been, she 
had difficulty in controlling her feelings. We re- 
peat, if Prudence had only come frankly to her 
now 

But this was not Prudence’s plan. Hers was 
not the meek and gentle nature that forgives past 
insults or forgets past slights. She hated Mrs. Salt- 
earth with an implacable fury. From her she had 
received nothing but contemptuous treatment all 
these years, and the iron had entered into her soul. 
She would go to any length to humble her, and 
once sure of her own position, her next craving was 
for revenge. Just for one chance to crush her, as 
she herself had been crushed, ere now, she would 
be willing to resign her dearest hopes and ambitions. 
But there was no danger that she would commit 
some act of folly in her vindictiveness; she was 
too clever for that. She was biding her time. When 


304 


SAINT MAMMON 


the proper moment came she would throw her hus- 
band over and make him appear as contemptible 
as possible, just to bring mortification on his family; 
just to show the world that he had never been any- 
thing but a puppet in her hands. 

It is not nice to contemplate such a nature as 
Prudence possessed, and we are not holding it up 
as an example to others. We prefer to believe in 
the doctrine that the meek shall inherit the earth. 
But while Mammon rules society, those excellent 
maxims which countless generations of good people 
have tried to live up to are likely to be thrown aside 
for the beatitudes of Hell, in order to proclaim the 
virtue of selfishness and the triumph of hate. 

Consequently, the reader will understand why it 
was that the psychological moment to heal this un- 
happy difference was lost, and society forced to reap 
a bitter harvest afterward. 


CHAPTER II 


We must search history for examples of heroism, 
in order to find a parallel to Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, 
permitting herself to be worried about these mat- 
ters. She stands forth, at this crisis, a pathetic fig- 
ure indeed. The air was full of rumors of social 
schisms. Outsiders were going about proclaiming 
new things, and the elect were like sheep without a 
shepherd. Still, she does not lose faith in herself. 
Perhaps she had suffered too much for society al- 
ready to be easily frightened. She realizes that she 
is its last hope now. 

None but a crocodile can do justice to her. The 
reader is warned that it would be advisable to pump 
up only crocodile sentiment in her behalf. Genuine 
feeling might prove fatal to some sensitive souls in 
this connection. 

She was human, but crocodile stoicism had forti- 
fied her for this ordeal, and only once did she seem 
to give way to weakness of any kind. There was 
a rumor that Mrs. Wholepush had usurped her 
place as society’s real leader, and many people were 
being led astray by such vain boasting. When this 
startling piece of intelligence came, Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones lost temper for a moment. She permitted 

305 


SAINT MAMMON 


3°6 

herself to remember that she had met a person 
named Mrs. Wholepush, but for the life of her 
could not recall just who she was. If the reader 
chooses to take this asproof that she could be moved 
to show emotion under certain circumstances, he is 
welcome to do so. 

Otherwise, she gave no sign of the fearful anx- 
iety she was enduring. 

Could it be possible that she found comfort in 
the friendship that Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby was 
able to offer her at this time? He was very de- 
voted, seeking to make up for the indifference of 
others, who were too much occupied with these 
factional fights to pay attention to her. He even 
went so far as to thrust himself in the way of these 
wranglings, although by nature he shrank from 
quarrels under all circumstances. But, for that mat- 
ter, if Mrs. Snubbody- Jones had asked him to do 
so, he would have charged into the cannon’s mouth. 

He had nothing to comfort him for his pains 
except the gratitude of his patroness; on the con- 
trary, he met with an experience in this connection 
that pained him very much indeed. 

He called on Mrs. Saltearth one day, in the hope 
of making her listen to reason. He insinuated as 
delicately as possible that she was hurting her own 
cause by her conduct, and he showed her that society 
was likely to suffer if she persisted in it. As proof 
how grave the situation had become, it was only 
necessary to state that Mrs. Snubbody- Jones had 


SAINT MAMMON 


307 

permitted herself to worry over it, and asked him 
to plead with her. 

But Mrs. Saltearth was obdurate. She had mas- 
tered the situation by this time, and understood that 
Prudence was only seeking to humiliate her. She 
was in a rage with her for coming to New York 
at all, and said so. It was understood that she was 
to remain away from the city altogether. Mrs. 
Saltearth considered it her duty now to expose this 
brazen-faced creature until everybody appreciated 
her real character. 

Then she turned with some petulance to Mr. 
Willoughby, and fell to upbraiding him. He had 
been this woman’s friend, and had gone sponsor 
for her before. Let him look to it that she packed 
up and got out of town at once. She was nothing 
but an adventuress, and very likely her record 
would hardly bear scrutiny. 

Mr. Willoughby was willing to ignore this show 
of temper because it was unjust to himself. But 
when Mrs. Saltearth defied his kind patroness in 
the very next breath, he had hard work to control 
himself. 

“I shall not seek advice in this matter,” Mrs. 
Saltearth declared, with something like a sneer. 
“Neither do I recognize the right of others to offer 
it to me. What has Mrs. Snubbody- Jones to do 
with this affair, anyhow? Who is Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones, I would like to know !” 

Mr. Willoughby was glad to get out of that 
house before it fell about his ears. If the earth 


SAINT MAMMON 


308 

had opened and swallowed It at these words, he' 
would not have been surprised. Bless my soul ! It 
must be that Mrs. Saltearth had gone out of her 
mind ! 

Mr. Willoughby could scarcely suppress a shud- 
der as he hurried away from that accursed spot. 

Defy Mrs. Snubbody-Jones ! 

He could not trust himself to think. 

The time had come for him to assert himself at 
last. Now he would show the world what He was 
made of. 

No knight of old was ever more inspired by the 
call of chivalry than he was at this moment. He 
hurried at once to his patroness, reported the fail- 
ure of his mission, and then found voice to tell her 
how Mrs. Saltearth had had the temerity to ques- 
tion her power. 

But Mrs. Snubbody- Jones received the news in 
a way that thrilled him. 

“Ah, my friend,” she said sadly, “I told you I 
am a martyr. Now you will believe it.” 

Then she announced that she would graciously 
permit herself to treat the incident as if it had not 
occurred. 

Mr. Willoughby was overcome. 

He believed a social anarchy was impending. 

If so, it was ushered in not long afterward by 
an incident that was somewhat dramatic. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost happened to be enter- 
ing a ball-room one evening, when she came face 
to face with her sister-in-law. Prudence was bear- 


SAINT MAMMON 


309 


ing herself like a woman that has grown accus- 
tomed to triumphs now, and perhaps her manner 
irritated her rival. A prominent society man was 
tripping at her dainty heels, and she was smiling 
and bowing to everybody. Suddenly she faced Mrs. 
Saltearth. 

The latter’s nose went up in the air in an instant. 
She gave a little sniff, and a mocking laugh, as much 
as to say: “Does this person presume to address 
herself to me?” 

Prudence was still smiling, and looked uncon- 
cerned. 

Now there were male creatures at this gathering, 
and every one of them felt a chill run down his 
spine at this moment. “How cold it is !” they mur- 
mured, as they turned up their collars, and one man 
actually started to get an overcoat. 

But the ladies were not one bit startled, and it 
must be confessed that they put the men to the 
blushon this occasion. Each of them seized the male 
nearest her, and began to talk courage into him. 

Prudence shrugged her shoulders, and frowned 
in a manner that boded no good to the woman who 
had rejected her last overture of peace, and then 
moved on. 

It is a matter of record that half an hour after 
the above incident had been forgotten by every 
woman present a male creature was discovered 
studying the thermometer, in the effort to ascertain 
how many degrees the mercury dropped when this 
reconnoiter took place. 


CHAPTER III 


With the coming of Lent, society hastened to 
put on the mask of piety, and was giving itself up 
to religious dissipation, by way of doing penance 
for its frivolity. The season just closed had been 
a brilliant one, and it was hardly to be expected 
that people would submit to sackcloth and ashes 
all at once, unless they did so in a hypocritical fash- 
ion. Wasn’t it a touching sight now to behold croc- 
odiles admitting that all flesh is grass, and the 
joys of Mammon only vanity and vexation of 
spirit? Even Mrs. Snubbody- Jones permitted her- 
self to renounce the devil and all his works until 
the reign of pleasure began again. 

Neither is it reasonable to assume that a young 
woman who had made her first season would search 
her conscience, and ask herself whether the life she 
had been leading was all it appeared to be. Madge 
had been a belle at many a fashionable gathering; 
her name had been in the papers, and she had been 
flattered and complimented until her head was al- 
most turned. Like a sensible girl, she gave herself 
up to dreams of happiness, and refused to argue 
about life at all. 

Wasn’t it glorious! Just like a fairy tale — all 


310 


SAINT MAMMON 3 1 1 

bliss and rapture ! It would have been unnatural 
if she had not been carried off her feet by her own 
triumphs. 

The modern Eve, it seems, can be tempted of 
Mammon, even as the first Eve was tempted of his 
father, the devil. Society has its standards of cul- 
ture, and some of them may be false. It has dis- 
covered a process for taking out of the human heart 
all natural feeling, and putting a false sentiment in 
its place. All this Mammon has done without any 
aid from science. What woman, if she were offered 
a professionally-fashionable reputation, would have 
the courage to reject it, even though she had to sac- 
rifice some scruples ? There are people in the world 
who regard cupidity and covetousness as real vir- 
tues, and the dollar-mark is as sacred in their eyes 
as the cross is to the Christian. 

Yes, Madge had had a great triumph. She had 
been a belle. What young woman could ask for 
more? A belle with a career before her! Her 
head was fairly turned by her success, and she could 
think of nothing else but the gayety, the excite- 
ment, the glamor. They had become the very 
breath of life to her. 

It seemed ages ago since she was living in Heath- 
dale, and much that related to her former life was 
forgotten now. Mammon had won her, and per- 
haps he had found her too easy a victim to his 
wiles. 

One day she chanced to meet Jack Allers, and 
promised to be at home one evening, if he would 


312 


SAINT MAMMON 


call. She laughingly told him that she had decided 
to keep Lent for the benefit of her friends, who 
complained that they never could get a chance to 
see her. She would receive all who cared to come 
at the hotel, where her uncle was stopping. 

Poor Jack was too far gone by this time to note 
the hint that this witticism implied. He simply 
lost his head at sight of her. It seemed to him that 
he had never seen her looking so well. High life, 
he owned, agreed with her. 

After she had left him, however, he was sorry 
he had accepted the invitation. He wanted to go 

all too badly, but He grew hot with anger all 

at once. He owed it, as a duty to himself, not to 
go near her. He ought to try to forget her, to steel 
his heart against her charms. Her friends had 
formed ambitious plans for her. Why should he 
try to make himself unhappy running after her? He 
would send her a note, and beg off. 

But, alas! for his resolution. He lay awake 
several nights before the momentous one, and tried 
to argue the matter out with himself. Each night, 
ere he fell asleep, he had promised himself not to 
keep the engagement, and had assured himself he 
was going to forget her; and yet each morning the 
battle began all over again, and he was beaten. In 
the end he went. 

But it was not the self-possessed Jack Allers of 
old that presented himself at Mr. Willoughby’s 
apartments on that eventful evening. A more de- 
jected, nervous young fellow it would have been 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i3 


hard to find. He fairly trembled when he was ush- 
ered into Madge’s presence, and he owned to him- 
self with a sinking heart that he was hopelessly in 
love. But he felt that he was not in love with the 
straightforward, womanly girl he had once known, 
but had fallen into the snares of a frivolous society 
butterfly. 

Yes, Madge was all that, as the result of a few 
brief months spent in the social whirl. Jack saw 
a change had taken place in her, and he almost 
cursed himself for a fool. His manner was brusque, 
and he was acting very much like a man who felt 
out of his class. He was in love, there was no 
doubt of that. For when a young man will sit 
moodily admiring a young lady’s hair, and when 
he contemplates with emotion the whiteness of her 
throat, and when he will follow her about with 
his eyes every time she makes a move, and blush 
when caught in the act — what other explanation 
can anyone give, except to say that he is in love, 
and, being in love, he is permitted to make as much 
of a fool of himself as he wishes? 

Unfortunately, too, Jack Allers felt like a fool, 
and was convinced he was acting like one. But 
he could not control himself, in spite of all. He 
wished he had not come, and yet he wanted to stay. 
He was in agony, feeling very much like a bird 
which sits gazing at a snake that has charmed it, 
and deprived it of the power of will. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby himself was present 
to receive his niece’s guest, as was only proper he 


3H 


SAINT MAMMON 


should be; and, of course, he was too polished a 
man to show that he understood the situation. He 
tried hard to make Jack feel at home, and his con- 
duct toward him was above criticism. But love 
was a thing so foreign to his own nature that he felt 
at a loss to know how to treat his guest at first, and 
finally decided that a facetious manner was the only 
thing practical in such a case. 

Accordingly, he related to him a story at which 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones herself had condescended to 
smile. Then he told him tales which had been origi- 
nated by his grandfather, and had the double dis- 
tinction of being well seasoned and intensely respect- 
able. At last, as Jack did not cheer up, he permit- 
ted himself to crack a few choice jokes, which ladies 
of the highest standing had enjoyed at afternoon 
teas. If these had related to ordinary people, of 
course there would be no point to them; but they 
had to do with the elite, every one of them, and 
Mr. Willoughby considered them rare specimens of 
wit. In short, he was giving Jack Allers a croco- 
dile reception that would have done credit to Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones herself. 

But poor Jack was on pins and needles, and could 
not force a laugh if he had wished to. The experi- 
ence he was going through was almost too much for 
him. 

Mr. Willoughby’s glance was like a serpent’s eye, 
and he felt it was reading him and piercing his soul. 

Soon he was seized with a desire to do some- 
thing desperate, and it was almost torture to resist 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i5 

the impulse. If he could pick up some article of 
furniture and hurl it at Mr. Willoughby’s head, 
or upset the table and dump its contents on the 
floor, it would be a comfort to him. But the mere 
harboring of such thoughts against so polished a 
gentleman was the height of rudeness. 

What a relief it was to him when Jockey Van 
Hurdle suddenly put in an appearance ! Perhaps 
it was more than accident that brought him here 
the same evening Jack was to call; but the latter 
did not stop to consider that. Mr. Willoughby 
would have to give part of his attention to him, 
and turn those ancient fables on a man who had 
played horses, and played them gamely. 

Jockey was in the best of spirits, too, and looked 
as if he had been picking winners lately. It was 
well if he had, because there was an ordeal before 
him this evening which was sure to call for good 
nature, and patience as well. Neither was he the 
kind of man, this fine, beefy fellow, to be over- 
awed by anybody, not even by Mr. Roosevelt Wil- 
loughby. He had faced crises in his time, and had 
seen his last dollar go on a nag that was only beaten 
by an eyelash, and surely he would not be van- 
quished by the mild tactics brought to bear on him 
now ! 

We all know there is no sense like horse sense, 
and Jockey had plenty of it, and with all his devo- 
tion to the turf he knew more about the gentler 
sex than he got credit for. A man that could pick 
out the fine points of horses almost at a glance must 


SAINT MAMMON 


2i6 

have quick perceptions, and Jockey had not been 
in that room a minute before he understood how 
the land lay in Jack’s case, and perhaps he felt 
sympathy for the poor beggar, seeing he was hard 
hit. Jockey knew from experience the girl was a 
bad one to manage, very apt to take the bit in her 
teeth, as he would put it, and pick her own gait. 
He had been dancing with her more or less this 
winter, and, with his horsey shrewdness, had found 
out lots of things about her. He was proof against 
her charms himself. Horses don’t give way to sen- 
timent. 

He understood now why he had been pressed 
so hard to call this evening, and without betraying 
himself he decided to take Jack Allers’s part. He 
conceived that the best way he could do this was 
to rule old Willoughby out of the race, and ac- 
cordingly he turned his attention to him. 

Jockey Van Hurdle, we repeat, had faced ordeals 
before, but he had reason to fall back on his stoi- 
cism now, for Mr. Willoughby was playing a very 
clever hand. He had intrenched himself behind a 
barrier of etiquette, from which vantage point he 
held the field at his mercy. If, too, he was secretly 
rejoicing at the opportunity of showing his niece 
what real elegance of manner is, he did not betray 
it. He had settled Jack Allers already, and now 
turned his refined browbeating on the other man. 

Jockey saw what was on, but the thought of 
horses gave him courage. Madge had got out a 
chafing-dish in the adjoining apartment, and as it 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i7 

only required a hint from her to start Jack Allers 
thitherward, Jockey was soon left to face the music 
alone. 

Whether he appeared to advantage, or not, 
doesn’t matter. Horses are not vain. He was not 
a brilliant conversationalist. Horses don’t talk. 
He put up a bold front, however. Horses are 
nervy. If he expressed an opinion, it was sure to 
be one that he was willing to stake money on. 
Horses have sand. He permitted his host to carry 
> on most of the conversation, while he assumed an 
air that he would be heard from on the home 
stretch. Horses have staying powers. If he al- 
lowed his adversary to rattle on in his elegant, easy 
fashion, under the impression that he was carrying 
everything before him, it was because horses can 
take odds. He was not much of a society pusher, 
but, somehow, Mr. Willoughby’s manner put him 
on his mettle, and he was not going to be outclassed 
so easily. Horses are game. He had some idea 
of culture, too, although in his opinion the great- 
est honor that could happen to a man would be to 
have a horse named after him. 

When Jack Allers re-entered the room, a few min- 
utes later, bearing some plates of lobster a la New- 
burg that Madge had prepared, he was pleased to 
find that Jockey was holding his own. There was 
a light in his eyes which plainly proclaimed that 
he had the field well in hand, and was only waiting 
a favorable moment to apply whip and spur, al- 
though at present it was a neck-and-neck race. Jack 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i8 

was satisfied that so long as Jockey stuck to horses 
he was safe enough. 

Now there is a proper way of eating in drawing- 
rooms on state occasions, and Mr. Roosevelt Wil- 
loughby had mastered the art. He had attended 
afternoon teas until he learned how to nibble at 
a cracker in the midst of a small mob of ladies, 
who were all talking at once, each bent on holding 
his attention. But Jockey liked lobster a la New- 
burg, and at sight of the delicacy before him his 
mouth fairly watered. Nevertheless, he decided 
now that his best policy was to cling to his knife 
and fork, and do as his host did. The result was 
that he succeeded in getting that lobster inside him, 
but in such small bits he did not even taste it. Both 
Jack and Madge returned to the room as this ex- 
traordinary feat was accomplished, and the former 
could not help smiling a little at the ludicrousness 
of the situation. There sat these two watching each 
other, Mr. Willoughby holding forth in his ele- 
gant, easy fashion, and Jockey simply clinging to 
his knife and fork, and thinking about horses. 

Madge came to ask if they did not want more 
lobster, and Mr. Willoughby, with characteristic 
politeness, allowed his guest to decide that question. 
But Jockey would have choked if he had been 
forced to put another morsel of that delicacy into 
his stomach without even chewing it, so plates were 
surrendered at once. 

It was near midnight before he succeeded in get- 
ting Jack away. Hang the fellow ! He seemed to 


SAINT MAMMON 


3i9 

have lost his wits, and would have stayed till the 
sun rose, if it had not been for Jockey. As it was, 
it took more than one hint to start him. Jockey 
had seen trouble in getting racers off, but this beat 
him completely. He was winded himself, and 
could not keep the pace much longer. He consid- 
ered that he had placed Jack Allers under lasting 
obligations for the part he had played this evening. 
He would not be willing to undergo another such 
ordeal for any odds. 

But did Jack appreciate it? He had his doubts 
about that. He was still depressed and melancholy, 
now that he was out on the street and away from 
temptation. Jockey could not help feeling thank- 
ful that horses do not fall in love. 

As Jack was still in the dumps, he felt that he 
had him on his hands yet a while, and decided to 
drag him off to the club and make a night of it. 
Accordingly, these two were soon pushing their way 
around the corner to Broadway, in the face of a 
sharp wind and driving snow. It had been storm- 
ing all the evening, and a blizzard was raging. 

Little did they dream that in another corner of 
the world an event had taken place that night which 
was to be of the utmost consequence to them and 
to the whole nation. It so happened that they were 
among the first to hear this news that was to startle 
the country. 

They were so blinded by the sleet they nearly 
ran into a newsboy as they turned a corner. The 
youngster made himself known in the most abrupt 


320 


SAINT MAMMON 


manner, for no sooner did he get sight of them than 
he bawled out above the roar of the gale: 

“Extry! Extry! Just out! De Maine blowed 
up in Havana Harbor 1” 


CHAPTER IV 


Those unfortunate beings who cannot appreci- 
ate a professionally-fashionable reputation, and are 
not afraid to pass out of the memory of Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones, will not find this piece entertaining. We 
are appealing to the elect of Mammon, and, first 
of all, this comedy aims to conform to the technique 
of the drawing-room, and cares nothing for curtain- 
thrilling effects. When, too, the author comes for- 
ward to make his best bow, he does so with the feel- 
ing that he is acting as master of ceremonies. 

How, otherwise, would he dare to comment on 
the hypocrisy of the over-rich, unless he were sure 
of his audience? Why would he quote Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones so glibly, except that he wishes to create 
the impression that she approves of his criticisms? 
She is authority for the statement that there are 
society crocodiles on the banks of the Hudson as 
much to be dreaded as those monsters that wallow 
on the banks of the Nile. 

Every philosophic mind must be impressed by 
any revelations in the ethics of sham. Consequent- 
ly, the reader will be glad to greet Mrs. Humphrey 
Provost in a star part again. Let us bear in mind, 


322 


SAINT MAMMON 


however, that crocodile art does not call for real 
feeling, but can sometimes act up to it so cleverly 
that its hollowness is not suspected. 

Poor Mr. Willoughby ! But the writer has made 
no secret of the fact that this woman had been using 
him for her own ends for a long time. He must 
have been prepared for the sensational pose he 
found her assuming one afternoon, when he 
dropped in on her and Madge. It came unexpect- 
edly, perhaps, but he could hardly be astonished 
at anything Prudence might do. 

At sight of him Madge gave a frightened cry : 

“Uncle!” 

It was an appeal for protection, but he ignored 
it, and turned to his hostess. 

“You have told her!” he said, sternly. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost did not answer. She 
had thrown herself on a sofa, buried her face in 
her hands, and was giving way to an agony of de- 
spair. But she looked up quickly as he spoke, and 
her glance touched him. He read in that face an 
acknowledgment of her shame, and the love that 
would atone for it. She who had been so arrogant, 
so defiant, once, was humbled now, and only craved 
pity. Yes, pity; but there was an eager light in 
her eyes, that hoped for something more from those 
she had wronged. 

Mr. Willoughby felt the appeal, and his anger 
vanished before it. He could not doubt that the 
motive that had goaded her to speak was the noblest 
of which this worldly-minded woman was capable. 


SAINT MAMMON 


323 

He walked to the door, locked it, and then closed 
the window-shutters. 

“There is no need of this going any further,” he 
said, and gave her an encouraging nod. 

Next he took Madge’s hand and led her toward 
the couch, where the wretched woman lay, crouch- 
ing like a degraded creature. 

“My child,” he said gently, “this is your mother. 
I am the only living witness to her marriage, which, 
for private reasons, she did not see fit to reveal.” 

But Mrs. Humphrey Provost did not move. 

“I want her to know all!” she said, hoarsely. 
“Don’t let her despise me, but tell her all !” 

Mr. Willoughby was dazed for a moment, but 
he recovered himself quickly. 

“Madam,” he answered, with something like re- 
proach, “you forget yourself! Please remember 
you were a Willoughby once, and your daughter is 
a Willoughby now !” 

His manner was all chivalry as he spoke; his fig- 
ure was sublime. This woman had sinned, but she 
was a Willoughby still. In that fact lay forgiveness 
and hope. She had been wronged, lied to-, deceived,, 
but she had been made a Willoughby ! What fur- 
ther reparation could anyone ask? 

In spite of herself Mrs. Humphrey Provost 
smiled feebly. 

“My brother was a Willoughby,” Mr. Roosevelt 
hastened to add. “He desired me to befriend you. 
I call you to witness I tried to follow out his 
wishes.” 


3 2 4 


SAINT MAMMON 


Mrs. Humphrey Provost looked up at him again 
at this, and gratitude was plainly written on her 
face. 

“Yes, I must absolve you on that head. You 
showed yourself a gentleman and a man of honor 
throughout the whole affair. If there were more 
men like you in the world it would be better than 
it is.” 

Mr. Willoughby bowed almost gratefully. He 
was thanking her for vindicating the family name. 

“Madam, I only acted as a true Willoughby 
should,” he said, and bowed again. 

Mrs. Humphrey Provost smiled up at him, and 
there was something like admiration in the glance 
she gave him now. 

“It was poverty drove me to the step,” she said, 
in a low voice. “My mother was an invalid, and 
we were wretchedly poor. My father — but let him 
pass. I never saw him, and I fear he must have 
been a villain. He had deserted us.” 

Mr. Willoughby could have told her about her 
father, but he did not. He was the man from 
whom he had rescued the poor woman he had been 
beating, so many years back, and who died a raving 
maniac after confessing to him the story of his 
shameless life. 

“I gave you my daughter because I wished her 
to be in good hands,” the penitent woman went on. 
“I knew you would do your full duty by her, you 
who were so good and kind to everybody. I knew 


SAINT MAMMON 


325 

she would be brought up in your house like one of 
your own family.” 

“She was treated as a Willoughby should be,” 
Mr. Roosevelt interrupted. 

“I meant to claim her some day, but as time went 
on I could not do so. I came to this city, where 
I made friends. Your generosity placed me above 
want, and nobody asked me of my past. I met a 
man, and married him — not out of love, I admit, 
but out of ambition. That marriage sealed the past 
for me, and cut me off from all connection with it. 
It brought me riches, but it has not brought me 
happiness, and I have been punished for my folly 
as I deserve to be. I would have kept the secret 
still, but I am a lonely woman, and so many are 
against me. I feared that this girl here was siding 
with my enemies, and I could not bear the thought. 
I tried to bind her to me by ties of gratitude and 
friendship, but that was not enough for me. I was 
desperate, and determined to take the chance of her 
despising me forever. I ” 

Mr. Willoughby interrupted her again, and he 
was a study of the ideal gentleman as he did so. 
There was a conscious air of triumph in his man- 
ner, and the thrill of the footlights seemed to be 
upon him. Here was a chance to prove to this 
woman, who had been sceptical of the family honor, 
what a real Willoughby was. 

“Madam,” he said, “when you gave your child 
into my keeping I promised you she should be 
brought up as a Willoughby should be, and I take 


SAINT MAMMON 


326 

pleasure in proving to you I have kept my word. 
At your own request I kept the secret of her birth 
from her until you revealed it of your own free will 
and accord. If now she were to turn against you 
from any such motive as you fancy, she would give 
the lie to her training, and I, myself, would be the 
first to repudiate her.” 

He advanced across the room to where Madge 
was sitting. She had dropped into a chair and re- 
mained a silent spectator of this conversation, seem- 
ing suddenly to have been deprived of the power of 
action. But, as her uncle approached and took her 
hand, she arose mechanically, and suffered him to 
lead her to the other woman, who watched her with 
fearful eyes. 

“My child, this is your mother, your father’s 
wife, my brother’s widow. For reasons of her own, 
which I am sure you will appreciate, she has not 
seen fit to reveal her relationship to you until this 
moment. Try to prove to her that the family to 
which you belong knows how to treat its own mem- 
bers with the same charity they would ask for them- 
selves.” 

He placed Madge’s hand in that of Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost as he spoke, and for a moment the 
two women looked at each other, and then embraced 
impulsively. At the word “Mother!” which Madge 
uttered almost with a wail, he turned away, and 
blew his nose vigorously. He did not fully recover 
himself until Madge called to him: 

“Uncle!” 


SAINT MAMMON 


327 


As he faced her at the word, and beheld her 
countenance, proud and radiant, he owned that she 
had never looked so beautiful before. 

“Uncle,” she said, and her voice was rich and 
thrilling, “I have to thank you for what you have 
done for mother and me. It is on your account 
that we can look each other in the face now and 
forget and forgive our wrongs. We will try here- 
after to repay you for all the trouble you have been 
put to on our account.” 

Mr. Willoughby gave a little gasp, and in the 
delight of the moment he forgot all about the agi- 
tation he had been under. He seized the hand his 
niece held out to him and raised it to his lips, while 
his heart swelled with pride and elation. 

She was a Willoughby after his own ideal ! 


BOOK VII 


CHAPTER I 

JOHNNY TRUMPS 

Gentle spring had come at last. Soft zephyrs 
were sporting among the tops of the sky-scrapers 
in town, bringing to city folk the old Eden yearning 
for the seaside and the summer resort. A man’s 
fancy now turns to thoughts of green fields and 
babbling brooks, and his only ambition is to go 
somewhere and shake off winter’s lethargy in sweet 
communion with Mother Nature. 

But, alas, in this merry springtime we are forced 
to treat of sterner things. The whole land was 
echoing to the din of warlike preparation, so that 
the season’s greeting went* unheeded. A wail had 
gone up from poor Cuba that found response in 
every loyal heart. The battle-cry of freedom was 
being sung once again in city, town, and country- 
side, and Johnny Trumps, the American soldier, 
was girding on his armor for another conflict. 

The situation is so startling that we may well 
pause a moment to consider it. 

328 


SAINT MAMMON 


329 


Thank God ! this war was not of America’s seek- 
ing, but was forced on a reluctant people by an 
insolent foe. Perhaps, however, it is only charity 
to assume that Spain had lost her head, and did not 
know what she was doing. Could it be that the 
memory of her transgressions had risen up before 
her and driven her to madness? The blowing up 
of the Maine is sufficient in itself to merit the state- 
ment that she had gone daft over her troubles, and 
was not responsible for her own fanaticism. 

How gladly Americans would have shirked this 
war, even up to the last moment, every American 
knows. When, however, it became apparent that 
they could not, the people accepted the issue almost 
in sorrow, and regarded it as an act of sacrifice on 
their part, made in behalf of humanity. They 
planned, also, to have it over with as soon as pos- 
sible. 

They consoled themselves with the reflection that 
it would be a war to set men free, and in this re- 
spect it was such a one as they had waged ever since 
they became a nation. The American people have 
a conscience to satisfy in a case of this kind, and 
they could not go into any contest with that con- 
science arrayed against them. 

Neither could they engage in a scheme of con- 
quest. They have known heaven’s favor when the 
odds were heavy, and they are too noble a people 
to ignore it now. If they must fight, they can only 
fight in faith, like Israel of old, and in the thunder 
of the battle-peal and the clashing of armies their 


330 SAINT MAMMON 

eyes must see the glory of the coming of the 
Lord. 

If ever a nation deserved to prosper on account 
of its moderation and love of justice, that nation 
is the United States of America. It has always 
been its boast that no other emblem on earth can 
rival the Star-spangled Banner as the champion of 
the oppressed, unless it be the Cross that was raised 
on Calvary. 

Therefore, it is only due them to say that the 
American people had been dragged into this war 
because they had listened once again to the cry of 
those in bondage, and the motive that inspired them 
was the same that led their fathers to proclaim lib- 
erty to all mankind. Let none presume to sneer 
because the affair turned out so profitably ; that was 
an unlooked-for coincidence. Posterity will judge 
the issue in all fairness. Saint Jago for Spain ! Hu- 
manity for America ! 

So it has come to pass that, much to his own re- 
gret, the writer now finds himself seeking to stir 
up military zeal and arouse patriotism, although 
such topics do not appeal to those who deal with 
the gentle ways of society. But the reader need not 
be alarmed, we shall only treat of this war in so 
far as it affects certain characters that have figured 
in these pages. Even now we drop the subject to 
turn to pleasanter things. We are listening to the 
tinkling of wedding bells, and may give ourselves 
up to love’s young dream, for Lillian of the 
Haughty Face is to be married to Hamilton Blood- 


SAINT MAMMON 


33i 

good. Let us try to forget war clouds, for a time, 
at least, and put on a smiling front. 

The mere sight of Hamilton’s mother on this 
occasion was enough to touch the coldest heart. It 
would be a natural mistake to assume that she was 
the one about to be married, instead of Lillian, and, 
indeed, we were on the very point of saying so. 
She was by far the happiest person in the wedding 
party. 

Dick Twaddleby, the wag, was best man; but 
the marriage was no jest on this account. He did 
his duty, as prescribed by custom, posing before a 
select congregation in a way that made the groom 
look to his laurels. It goes almost without saying 
that Richard was hot stuff, and it is also worthy 
of note that bulldogs were not present at the cere- 
mony.. 

But the exiles of the Mercury Club — dear friends 
and boon companions of the bridegroom, who had 
been having wine suppers on the strength of the 
engagement for weeks back — how they managed 
to restrain their feelings is something of a marvel. 
However, they conducted themselves with a deco- 
rum befitting the occasion, until the wedding feast 
was served, and then the way the corks began to 
pop caused Mrs. Thurston to renew the fears which 
had led her to give but a passive consent to her 
daughter’s union. 

The exiles were trying to make themselves popu- 
lar now, because many of them believed it was to 
be their last appearance in society, and they wished 


332 


SAINT MAMMON 


to leave a good impression behind them. The day 
after the ceremony they were to enter the army. 
The gossips were unanimously of the opinion that 
without their presence the wedding could not have 
been the success it was, and in the light of events 
that followed many people recalled their conduct 
with pleasure. 

They were out for a good time, and they had 
it. All fear of bad form was thrown to the winds, 
and they were nice to everybody. Mrs. Stuyvesant 
Bloodgood, happy and beaming, came among them, 
and was received with enthusiasm, and toasted in 
many rousing bumpers. The way she encouraged 
them to drink to the health of the young couple 
made Mrs. Thurston fairly shudder. 

Lillian of the Haughty Face made a handsome 
bride, and she never bore herself with more dig- 
nity than on this trying occasion. The gossips de- 
clared she was without an equal, and in a case of 
this kind the gossips always know what they are 
talking about. They also noted that Hamilton 
Bloodgood seemed very proud of her, from which 
they inferred he was deeply in love. Perhaps, now, 
they were right again. 

The mere fact that Madge was Lillian’s brides- 
maid created some comment. Many people be- 
lieved it was she Hamilton had been in love with 
all along, but it is evident they were mistaken. The 
truth of the matter is, this match had been of 
Madge’s own making from the first. She had 
planned it herself, before either of the couple be- 


SAINT MAMMON 


333 

gan to be lovers, and she carried it through as only 
a woman knows how to do. 

But if Lillian was conscious of all these things, 
and if she was aware of the criticisms that certain 
busybodies had made, her manner was her only 
answer to them now. She could not be indifferent 
to the fact that her mother had opposed her mar- 
riage, and she must have been aware of many of 
the stories which had been circulated against the 
reputation of her husband. However, she was Lil- 
lian of the Haughty Face, and that was sufficient. 

So it goes the whole world over. Love is blind, 
or else it is wilful. But who can tell the reason? 
Faithful, loyal, inconsistent — why is it that a wom- 
an censures one fault in a thousand men and for- 
gives one man a thousand sins ? 

Jack Allers was at the wedding, quite like his old 
self. He, too, had planned to go into the army, 
and a change seemed to have come over him in 
consequence. He talked very freely with Madge 
about it. He told her that in every war the United 
States Government had waged, an Allers had taken 
part, and he wished to be in this one. 

Fain would our muse dwell on sentiment and 
chivalry at this point, but the Cupid of the Money 
Bags demands attention now. He is a clever little 
rascal, and cannot be ignored by those who have 
accepted the code of Mammon. He does not both- 
er himself about love’s young dream, and he cares 
not a rap for heroics. Pocketbooks and bank rolls 
are his attractions, and the darts he uses have golden 


334 


SAINT MAMMON 


tips to them. He is the slyest, cunningest, most 
irresistible imp, and many very respectable people 
declare that he is just too cute for anything. 

About this time Mrs. Humphrey Provost de- 
cided that Madge would yield to her wishes and 
accept the husband she had chosen for her. Her 
motives were commendable, Prudence told herself. 
If she could get the girl married to Bridges, and 
out of the country, she might be able to acknowl- 
edge her openly as her daughter. She dared not 
reveal the secret in New York. Americans are so 
puritanical, and she had so many enemies. But 
get her to Paris, and all would be well. 

Accordingly, she came to terms with Bridges 
about the matter of the dot . But here she blun- 
dered. She thought it was safe to reveal her past 
to the Parisian, and accordingly acknowledged that 
Madge was her own daughter, born out of wedlock. 
She had married her father afterward, though, just 
to satisfy American scruples. The girl had been 
brought up in ignorance of her birth, and the rela- 
tionship had just been revealed to her. Now was 
the time for Bridges to speak. 

Prudence further admitted that she had an ob- 
ject in view in bringing about this marriage. If 
she could see Madge living in Paris as his wife, 
she could openly recognize her as her daughter. 
She had feared that the girl was falling in love 
with that dismal Mr. Allers, and it had caused 
her some uneasiness. Get her to Paris at once, and 
all would be well. 


SAINT MAMMON 335 

Bridges’ first step on hearing this surprising bit 
of family history was to raise the amount of the 
dot. The girl being illegitimate, on her mother’s 
confession, and a marriage with a man of his lib- 
eral disposition being desirable, he felt justified in 
demanding a better settlement than he had stood 
out for. Matrimony was a serious thing to a man 
who had not yet made up his mind whether he was 
eager to settle down to a domestic existence. There- 
fore, he felt justified in asking for more dot than 
formerly. 

Prudence was so vexed at the man’s avarice she 
could not conceal her feelings. Nevertheless, she 
decided to continue the negotiations for this match, 
on which she had set her heart. She really loved 
Madge as a mother, and was pining for the time 
when she could recognize her before the world. 
She had formed a plan for doing this that would 
keep her secret, and Bridges was necessary to its 
success. 

Accordingly, these two fell to bargaining over 
this matter of the dot, as if Madge were a piece 
of valuable merchandise, and had no right to choose 
her own fate. Bridges would not yield a point. He 
considered that he had been liberal enough already. 
When Prudence pointed out to him that he had no 
title to offer in this case, he retorted by reminding 
her that he would be the means of restoring her 
daughter to her. 

It is painful to have to record that this romance, 
which was conducted according to the code of Mam- 


SAINT MAMMON 


336 

mon, miscarried after all. The fault was Bridges’s. 
Perhaps his patience had been exhausted by the 
ceaseless wrangle about the matter of the dot. Per- 
haps, too, he did not wish to marry, anyhow. Mat- 
rimony, even with a good dot, is a serious thing, 
when a man has not made up his mind whether he 
has sowed his wild oats yet. 

But it must be confessed that the spirit of the 
libertine was too strong in Bridges to be shaken 
off easily. He told himself, with a sigh, that the 
day of amours would have to end after marriage. 
No more of those delightful little intrigues which, 
as a man of pleasure, had been the breath of life 
to him. American women get their ideas of ro- 
mance from the Stone Age, and expect constancy in 
a husband. If it were possible for him to fall in 
love with the girl, after the American fashion, he 
had opportunity to prove it now, for Prudence, de- 
spairing of his obstinacy in regard to the dot, de- 
cided to try the effect of Madge’s charms on him. 
She planned to bring them together as often as pos- 
sible, and frequently had Bridges to dinner, so he 
could spend the evening with Madge. The Parisian 
found this something of a bore, but he managed 
to stand it. Prudence discovered, however, that 
he would not yield in the matter of the dot, in spite 
of her arts. 

One evening he threw off the mask of convention- 
ality, which had held him in check heretofore, and 
gave loose rein to his natural propensities. He had 
been drinking freely, and his veins were on fire. 


SAINT MAMMON 


337 

The girl was tempting enough, and he was all alone 
with her in Mrs. Humphrey Provost’s parlor. 

All at once he became very free in his actions, 
and the spirit of recklessness took possession of him. 
He even took hold of Madge half playfully, and 
tried to drag her to his side. 

She was cold, repellant, in an instant. • 

He persisted, laughingly. 

Then followed a scene that roused the woman 
in her and changed her into an Amazon. 

Bridges seized her and began an avowal of pas- 
sion that she could not misunderstand. This was 
the real meaning of his attentions, then? Pie 
thought because her mother 

Bridges was speaking now in a way that fairly 
froze the blood in her veins. 

For a time she felt powerless to speak, her con- 
tempt for him rendering her speechless. 

But at length, as he sought to embrace her, she 
tore herself from his grasp and struck him in the 
face. She hardly realized what she was doing, 
but struck with all her strength, not once, but thrice, 
and again. The blows she delivered in her fury 
were no light ones, either. 

Bridges wore a black eye for a long time after- 
ward, and that sleek, smiling face of his was bruised 
and swollen. 


CHAPTER II 


The motive which led the exiles of the Mercury 
Club to volunteer for the war was creditable to 
their patriotism and their manhood. Nevertheless, 
it is not unjust to them to state that they were only 
too glad to escape from the dull routine of club 
life, in which they were fast stagnating. Here was 
a chance to get a little excitement in a new and un- 
tried field. They had had everything else, and per- 
haps a campaign in a hostile country would save 
them from ennui. 

Moreover, it was hinted among them that Spain 
had been guilty of bad form. Charley Poindexter 
said as much, and he ought to know. They did 
not state this openly, because they did not wish 
to ruin the chances of the proud Castilian at the 
very outset of the struggle by proclaiming it broad- 
cast. Their sense of fairness forbade this. For, 
serious as were some of the things that the news- 
papers were charging against Spain, they were as 
nothing to bad form in the exiles’ eyes. In their 
judgment this was a handicap that no nation could 
be expected to stand up under. However, they 
took comfort for their own cause, now that bad 
form was charged to the other side. 

33 8 


SAINT MAMMON 339 

Charley Poindexter did not hesitate to say that 
he was acting for the best interest of the club in 
asking everybody to enlist. It was his desire that 
the members should volunteer as a unit, and get 
into the same command. This they succeeded in 
doing. The regiment they joined made itself fa- 
mous ere the war closed, and they did their share 
towards winning its reputation. 

Poindexter had had a military education, and 
succeeded in getting a commission; and Stacey 
Mansfield, who had forgotten something about 
drill, was made sergeant. The rest had to be con- 
tent to go as mere privates, and they were glad of 
the chance, at that. 

Jockey Van Hurdle was among the first to offer 
himself, and a more enthusiastic recruit it would 
have been hard to find. His manner underwent 
such a change all at once that his friends scarcely 
knew him for the same man that used to sit in the 
clubhouse, smoking a cigar, and thinking about 
horses by the hour. He threw off his former stolid- 
ity, and went about exhorting his fellows to join, 
declaring that they must make the company the 
crackest thing in the regiment, and the regiment the 
crackest thing in the whole army. Brave old Jockey ! 
It was indeed a hero’s part that fate had in store 
for him, and the end of it all was glory. 

Young Quizzledown was not afraid to admit 
that Methuselah was partly responsible for his en- 
thusiasm. The old patriarch had conceived a vio- 
lent prejudice against the war, and against all who 


340 


SAINT MAMMON 


favored it. He declared that the President had 
gone crazy, and Congress was a pack of fools, and 
even predicted the speedy downfall of the Republic. 
When Quizzledown drew him into an argument 
on the subject he actually refused to repudiate his 
own statements, but insisted that the country was 
going to the perdition bow-wows. 

None the less ardent to prove his heroism was 
Jack Allers, and the motive that induced him to 
seek the service was altogether honorable. His 
health had been breaking down for some time past, 
so that it was all he could do to pass the physical 
examination. The surgeon refused him at the first 
trial, but was persuaded to give him a second 
chance, and he managed to get in. 

Thus it came about that in the pleasant spring- 
time the exiles did not go to Heathdale, as had been 
their custom for a number of years. The club- 
house v/as given over to the old fogies, who could 
quarrel over chairs and small points of precedence, 
and listen to Methuselah railing against the gov- 
ernment, to their heart’s content. Ere summer had 
set in, all of the younger members were in camp, 
mustered into the gallant N-th Regiment, panting 
for active service in Cuba against the enemy. They 
were kept busy for some weeks going through the 
drills, digging ditches, and manipulating the pick- 
axe and shovel under the supervision of Sergeant 
Mansfield and some others. The work was new to 
them, and, in spite of its novelty, irksome. Neither 
did their troubles end here. It was no easy matter 


SAINT MAMMON 


34i 

to get rid of an appetite that had been educated to 
club fare, and bring the digestive organs down to 
hard-tack and canned rations. Before they suc- 
ceeded they had lost many pounds of flesh, and not 
a few of them had been in the hospital ; but with 
their enthusiasm to see service, they endured this 
without murmuring. 

Dick Twaddleby considered that he showed his 
patriotism in accepting a mere private’s position. 
With his physique, he used to wonder why they 
didn’t offer him a commission. He gave the com- 
manding officer the full benefit of his chest as he 
went out to dress parade or guard mount, and he 
rather pitied his obtruseness in not recommending 
him for promotion at sight. Richard’s genial tem- 
per soon made him popular all through the regi- 
ment. His fellow privates made much of him, and 
even dignified officers caught themselves in the act 
of smiling at some of his bright sallies. He took 
the rough part of the life as a huge joke, and kept 
cheerful under trying circumstances. He used to 
declare that we had so many football contests in 
the United States, war was mere child’s play to us. 
He was obedient to his superiors in rank, and was 
altogether a model in deportment. The captain ad- 
mitted afterward that he was the best man in the 
company. 

Charley Poindexter made a good officer. Always 
a gentleman himself, he treated his subordinates in 
a way that made them respect him, and he never 
lost sight of the fact that they were only human, 


342 


SAINT MAMMON 


and needed encouragement. It was admitted at 
headquarters that he could do more with his men 
than almost any other officer. He was placed in 
charge of a field gun, an honor eagerly sought for, 
and there is no telling to what distinctions he might 
attain ere the war closed. 

He made it a point to be very strict with the 
exiles in his command, and took care that they 
should appreciate bad form in the military sense. 
Nevertheless, he unbent quite in the spirit of old 
times and good fellowship to one of their number, 
and the circumstance is worth recording. 

It chanced that Private Twaddleby was on sen- 
try duty one rainy night, and Lieutenant Poindexter 
was officer of the guard. The state of the weather 
was enough to make even a man of Richard’s genial 
temperament feel depressed, as he was on a lonely 
post, and the mud was ankle deep. However, when 
the lieutenant came around at midnight he did not 
betray the state of his feelings in the way he came 
to present arms. Lieutenant Poindexter, as he re- 
turned this salute, permitted himself to throw mili- 
tary etiquette to the winds for a moment. There 
was nobody about to criticise, and why should he 
not be gracious to his former chum, who needed a 
word of cheer now, if ever a soldier did? 

“You’ll live to marry an heiress yet, Richard,” 
he said, with something like his old-time playful- 
ness. 

But Private Twaddleby, hearing himself ad- 


SAINT MAMMON 343 

dressed by his superior, only brought his piece to 
port arms. 

This incident, of course, was not reported at 
headquarters. 

But at last there came a day when the regiment 
got orders to move, and straightway every soldier 
forgot his discontent. Camp was broken, baggage 
packed, and the command hurried southward to 
meet transports for Cuba, and active service. 


CHAPTER III 


It is not the author’s purpose to strike the meas- 
ure of football heroics, and fall to narrating the stir- 
ring events which led up to the surrender at Santi- 
ago. Neither does he propose to question the con- 
duct of the campaign, after the example of so many 
critics, who seem to assume that their own judg- 
ment is infallible. 

Not but what there is plenty to praise in the con- 
duct of American soldiers and sailors, who proved 
to the world that under democracy patriotism does 
not die out, nor society degenerate. But Johnny 
Trumps needs no eulogy. His deeds are a eulogy 
in themselves. 

Yea, verily; and the old Berserker spirit is not 
dead yet; neither have the fighting qualities of the 
Anglo-Saxons deteriorated with the lapse of centu- 
ries. On the contrary, this race seems to have grown 
stronger in character as it advanced in civilization. 
In intelligence, refinement, and ability, it is famous 
the world over, and if forced to go back to the 
savage instinct, and wage war, it can fight as fear- 
lessly as it could in the days of its barbarism. 

It was the enthusiasm of the rank and file that 
excused the apparent rashness of the American corn- 

344 


SAINT MAMMON 


345 


manders. The occasion demanded not ordinary 
deeds, but miracles, and with any other class of 
soldiers the campaign might have been an utter fail- 
ure. 

Everybody went wild when Cuba was reached at 
last, and prospects of actual fighting were immi- 
nent. A general who would have tried to hold the 
men back now would have been jeered at by the 
privates themselves. The bands played light oper- 
atic airs while the regiments landed, formed, and 
marched away. It was an up-to-date army, and it 
was going to be an up-to-date war. 

Who is not ready to champion the cause of the 
wretched creatures one meets with at every turn 
in this unhappy country, which, under tyranny, had 
become a curse to its inhabitants? Away with the 
fault-finder! Away with those who would com- 
promise with oppression ! Here now our Flag is 
hailed as the emblem of freedom, and the favor of 
heaven must be upon it. 

The soldiers had ceased their grumbling, and 
were in the best of spirits. The enthusiasm which 
had been held in check so long began to manifest it- 
self as the certainty of battle was brought home 
to them. They were like dogs straining in the 
leashes, with the game in full view. 

A few volleys in front announced that the ad- 
vance guard was already engaged, and a thrill 
seemed to go through the ranks at the very sound. 
It was all the officers could do to keep the troops 
from breaking into a run for the firing line. 


SAINT MAMMON 


346 

Now there is another volley, then another, and 
somebody rides up with an order to advance for 
attack. There is a repressed cheer, and another 
thrill goes through the ranks. 

“Forward, my bullies !” 

And Johnny Trumps broke for the Spanish line. 

Through a tangle of tropical underbrush, 
through canebrake, morass, and dense foliage, 
which obstructed the view in front, on they rushed, 
and took the first baptism of fire. When they broke 
into a trench at the bayonet point they were sur- 
prised to discover Spaniards shot through the head 
and forearm, the only parts exposed above the 
earthworks. They had fired at random, with noth- 
ing but the reports of the enemies’ guns to guide 
them. But there was little time to note such things. 
There were other trenches ahead, and they pushed 
on until these were taken, and when night fell the 
foe had retired beyond hope of pursuit. 

We are led into this description because we are 
following the fortunes of the exiles, who, as mem- 
bers of the gallant N-th Regiment, were in the 
thickest of the fight. Our friends conducted them- 
selves on this occasion in a way that won them the 
respect of veterans. They entered two trenches 
and captured a block-house. This last was effected 
under the command of Lieutenant Poindexter him- 
self. They came upon it suddenly, and should have 
waited for reinforcements, considering the fact that 
they were only part of a company, and a crowd of 
Spaniards were intrenched about it. A mule-path 


SAINT MAMMON 347 

led up to it, and the ascent was steep ; but Poindex- 
ter sprang to the front and shouted the men on. 

To their surprise, the enemy fired a volley that 
passed harmlessly over their heads, then turned and 
fled. 

Dick Twaddleby was so struck with the ludi- 
crousness of the thing, that he was moved to joke 
about it. 

“Dear boy,” he said to a comrade, “they knew 
we had a mortgage on that block-house and thought 
we had come to foreclose.” 

“Right you are, Richard!” Sergeant Mansfield 
answered, as he drew a bead on the retreating Span- 
iards with his Krag. 

Richard : “This war is a cinch, anyhow. All we 
have to do is to charge into a trench, give the enemy 
a kick all around, and then charge into another, and 
kick them again. That’s the way to take Cuba.” 

Sergeant Mansfield: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “The mistake Spain made was that 
she took the sleeping alligator for a log, and now 
she is going to get gobbled. However, as she is 
not in our class, we may let her down easy, pro- 
vided she takes her punishment meekly. She will 
lose more now than she would have lost if she had 
taken the tip when it was passed to her about Cuba. 
Now your Uncle Sam has got a first mortgage on 
everything Spain owns, and, what is more, he is 
going to foreclose.” 

Sergeant Mansfield: “Right you are, Richard.” 

But the exiles were not surprised at the poor 


SAINT MAMMON 


348 

showing Spain was making. What can you expect 
of a nation that has been guilty of bad form ? The 
wonder was that the Castilians did anything at all. 

It seemed to them the war was going to be a 
mere holiday, with just enough danger in it to give 
it raciness. But, alas ! there was misery enough to 
many, and they were to get their share of that, also. 

They were marching back to camp in the best of 
spirits with the result of the day’s work, when a 
messenger met them with the sad news that Jockey 
Van Hurdle had been killed with the advance 
guard. 

Poor, brave Jockey! He had been sent out to 
beat up the enemy, and had walked straight into 
an ambush which had been laid for the army itself. 
The sergeant who commanded the party waved a 
warning to him, and his comrades shouted to him 
to save himself ere they turned to run, but it was 
too late. Jockey’s fighting blood was up, and he 
was thinking about glory. 

Not horses now! The spirit of heroism had 
taken possession of his soul, and to fly were worse 
than cowardice. He faced his foes until he fell 
in the very act of loading his last cartridge. 

Brave old Jockey! He died without flinching, 
as game in death as he had been in life. Who could 
wish him a nobler fate? Who will not rather envy 
him his grave of honor? The first to fall fighting 
for the weak and oppressed — such be his epitaph. 

A newspaper man who ran across his body was 
so impressed with the sight he stopped to describe 


SAINT MAMMON 


349 

it. There he lay dead, blocking the only pathway 
that led to the enemies’ lines, a scowl of battle 
lingering on his brow, and such a look on his face 
as seemed to claim the right to dispute that pas- 
sage he by self-sacrifice had won. They buried him 
in the soil he had died to redeem, and brave men 
wept like children as they laid him to rest in it. 

But, alas ! he was not the only one who gave his 
young life to his country’s cause that day. All 
around, where the army had fought, the dead and 
wounded lay; and, as the sun was sinking, the band 
played the national anthem, as a requiem to heroic 
souls, and dying men raised their voices to join 
feebly in the chorus, and dying eyes were fastened 
on Old Glory until the light in them went out for- 
ever. 

But it is not our purpose to dwell on these things, 
and except they concerned certain persons con- 
nected with this story we would not describe them 
at all. 


CHAPTER IV 


When that April with its showers sweet the 
drouth of March hath pierced to the root, and dur- 
ing the season known as the heated term, certain 
persons prominent in society go on pilgrimages to 
Newport, where Mammon hath set up a most fa- 
mous shrine. 

Just to gain admittance to this is considered a 
very great privilege by the elect of fashion, and the 
chance pilgrim that might try to force his way in 
there would be treated as an arrogant interloper. 
A man may rank high in the social world at large, 
and yet stand no more chance of getting the entree 
at Newport than he has of beholding the tomb of 
the Prophet. It has been whispered that it is more 
difficult to pass muster in this place than it is to 
get presented at some courts in Europe. Newport 
is popularly regarded as the sanctum sanctorum of 
American society, and the paradise of the over- 
rich. 

When a man is sure of the favor of Mrs. Snub- 
body- Jones, as the author now is, and can rely on 
her to back his statements, he may be excused if 
he is led into making rash ones. But with such a 
theme as Newport furnishes, how can one go too 
35 ° 


SAINT MAMMON 


35i 


far? It is the fairy land, and the genii of Mam- 
mon are here to work all the sorcery known to the 
necromancy of frenzied finance. Here 'you may 
see Aladdin and his wonderful lamp outdone. Here 
you may find the place where the rich princess in 
the fairy tale dwelt, and with your own eyes you 
snay behold the wonders our childish fancy dreamed 
about. Here the professionally-fashionable congre- 
gate, and stand off the common herd; and all the 
titled nobility of Mammon, the over-rich and the 
great billionaire, set up their regal state. When 
people have so much money they don’t know what 
to do with it, they come here, so that they may not 
feel out of their class. 

Furthermore, once upon a time Mrs. Snubftody- 
Jones permitted herself to say that everything leads 
to Newport. 

It was probably for these reasons that Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby had long cast covetous eyes 
on this favored spot. He had promised himself 
that it would be his aim to win recognition there, 
and he also planned to make Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 
go sponsor for him when he should do so. He was 
not afraid to trust himself to the crocodiles, now 
that he had become one of them himself. He was 
looking forward with great complacency for society 
to get on the move, when this horrid war came 
along and spoiled everything. 

Alas ! such is the destiny of man, who never is, 
but is always to be, blessed ! 

Mr. Willoughby had played his cards so cleverly, 


352 


SAINT MAMMON 


and to think that a thing like this should break up 
the game ! Kismet ! It is fate ! 

But, for that matter, he was not the only suf- 
ferer from this same cause. Long before the out- 
break of hostilities, alarming rumors were set afloat 
that created no little uneasiness among the people 
to whom a season at Newport had become a habit 
not easily to be resigned. We speak pathetically 
of those whom the conflict directly affected, but 
here is a new phase of it, not commonly taken into 
account. Just fancy Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller’s di- 
lemma when she was forced to give up her Newport 
pilgrimage for fear of the Spanish fleet! Fancy 
Mrs. Wholepush’s state of mind when she learned 
that Herr villa might be laid in ruins ! Imagine Mrs. 
Isgood’s chagrin when she had to forego her trip 
to Europe, for fear the seas would be harrowed 
by pirates! Consider all these things, add Mr. 
Willoughby’s disappointment to the sum total, and 
then admit that it is all very well for impecunious 
patriots to rush blindly into warfare, but this kind 
of thing falls heavily on those that have something 
at stake. Some declared that Newport should be 
exempt from pillage in the articles of war, and even 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones permitted herself to be wor- 
ried over the situation. 

Now a Willoughby once distinguished himself in 
the Continental Army during the Revolution, and 
Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby, who regarded himself 
as the reincarnation of all his ancestors, and who 
felt that his family tradition required him to be 


SAINT MAMMON 


353 


loyal to the government, whatever it did, was 
forced to hear talk that unsettled him. One man, 
who professed to know something of military af- 
fairs, and was own cousin to Mrs. Saltearth, in the 
bargain, spoke of the government’s stupidity in 
sending what little fleet it had into the enemy’s 
waters. What was to prevent its own coast from 
being sacked? What was to hinder the Spanish 
ships from sailing right over Sandy Hook bar and 
taking New York? 

Another critic to whom Mr. Willoughby talked 
went even further. He had lived abroad until he 
had come to have a poor opinion of everything 
American, and he could not for a moment believe 
that a nation situated on this side of the Atlantic 
could amount to anything against Europe. He pre- 
dicted that the United States would soon be divided 
among the great and little powers, and he com- 
forted himself with the thought that England 
would undoubtedly get New York. One or two old 
women were frightened by such brag, and the won- 
der was that the stars did not drop right out of Old 
Glory on account of it. 

Neither is there any telling what the effect of 
this might have been on Mr. Willoughby. He 
could not overlook the fact that these parties be- 
longed to the professionally-fashionable set. It is 
all very well to talk about the support of the masses, 
but if the cream of society should become disaffected 

in a crisis of this kind Bless my soul ! where 

would we be likely to end? 


354 


SAINT MAMMON 


But, happily, all such danger was averted. In 
the hour of trial Mrs. Snubbody- Jones arose, and 
announced her approval of the war. Perhaps there 
was a suspicion in her mind that outsiders and new 
people had brought on this startling condition of 
affairs, and the time had come for Americans to 
assert their dignity. Be that as it may, she permit- 
ted herself to back the government now. 

In Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby’s opinion the na- 
tion was saved. 


CHAPTER V 


Crocodile patriotism may not appeal to the av- 
erage American citizen unless he has designs on 
the United States treasury. Candor compels us to 
say, however, that there is a great deal of it in 
this land of the sovereign politician, and sometimes 
it sits in high places, and uses the public credit 
for its own ends. Too many of our so-called states- 
men have only a crocodile interest in the people 
they pretend to serve, and it might not be a bad 
idea if the voters were able to distinguish between 
crocodile patriotism and the real article. 

So, at least, Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby thought, 
and now that his mind had expanded to the beau- 
ties of the crocodile idea he was inclined to apply 
it to every field of human enterprise. In his esti- 
mation it was a great philosophy, capable of em- 
bracing everything in society. Let us see now 
whether there is not some ground for this belief. 

History is full of achievements that may only 
be important from a crocodile standpoint. Even 
in this enlightened age our wise men sometimes get 
excited over events that should be taken in a croco- 
dile sense, if they cannot be ignored entirely. A 
355 


SAINT MAMMON 


356 

question arises touching the boundaries of Sene- 
gambia, that nobody cares two straws about. 
Straightway the diplomats pull long faces, and pre- 
dict direful things, and strategists fall to telling 
what would happen if the forces of one empire were 
dumped on the forces of another empire. 

Now would it not be better for the world at large 
to take this thing with crocodile indifference? 

Again, the report comes in flaming headlines 
that his supreme dizziness, the Sultan of Hominy 
Island, will dispense with a civilized bill of fare, 
and go back to a diet of roast missionary. Straight- 
way we are informed that the peace of the world 
is threatened, whereas it is only threatened in a 
crocodile sense. 

We have a crowd of alarmist statesmen among 
us who delight to frighten the timid with dire pre- 
dictions of evil. We would do well to take them 
in a crocodile fashion, and spare ourselves anxiety 
on their account. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby honestly believed 
that some modern nations should put the crocodile 
in their flag. 

When, too, it comes to politics, in this age of 
graft, Mr. Willoughby believed that the crocodile 
idea would elevate the entire system. Take the 
case of an election, where much spoil is at stake. 
Some statesman arises to advocate the rights of the 
downtrodden masses, and gets a share of that spoil 
himself. How he bellows forth predictions of the 
awful things that will happen unless he is elected, 


SAINT MAMMON 


357 


and how he pleads with the people to have wrongs 
that he alone can right, or, if they haven’t them, to 
pretend they have! He warns the voters that the 
eyes of the solar system are upon them, and he 
begs them to do their duty, their full duty, and noth- 
ing but their duty, and bury his opponent under an 
unprecedented majority. 

Such a patriot may be taken in crocodile fashion. 

Some of these modern reformers, too, who want 
to overthrow everything and make the world over 
again — they should be accepted as crocodile bene- 
factors. 

As to the modern newspaper, surely the crocodile 
idea would benefit it. Every once in a while it 
comes out with startling headlines that are not so, 
and endeavors to excite the public over events that 
may be denied in the next issue. 

Something in the crocodile line is absolutely es- 
sential to democracy, because it is always airing its 
dirty linen in public. Those who believe in it ap- 
preciate this fact, and do not lose faith in it; but 
even its most ardent champions tire of the calamity 
howler. Let democracy, for its own protection, ac- 
cept these in crocodile resignation. We cannot 
dodge the pessimist in modern society, it would 
seem. Perhaps we would do well to develop a 
crocodile indifference for his benefit and our own 
dignity. 

The great trouble with civilization is, there are 
too many crocodile saviours trying to bring on a 
crocodile milleninum. 


SAINT MAMMON 


358 

Mr. Willoughby decided that New York is a 
crocodile town. It interests itself in the sensation 
of the hour, and then drops it abruptly. 

Yes, there is much to be said in favor of a croco- 
dile view of life, even though the average citizen 
might be disposed to receive it with caution. It is 
sad to reflect, too, how much has been lost to his- 
tory and literature because the crocodile standard 
was not proclaimed sooner. Just think of the croco- 
dile sympathy that might have been pumped up in 
behalf of Shylock, and what crocodile excuses he 
might have offered for grinding the faces of the 
poor. What crocodile love Richard III might have 
expressed for his relations, and what beautiful do- 
mestic sentiments Bluebeard could have uttered in 
a crocodile fashion. 

But it is not too late for the world to receive 
it now, and perhaps, as Mr. Willoughby believed, 
it might prove to be the salvation of modern so- 
ciety. There was such license in it. He found 
that he could express opinions that he did not be- 
lieve, provided the people he told them to could 
appreciate the fact that he was speaking in a croco- 
dile sense, and was not to be taken seriously. 

But when he chanced to meet a fellow crocodile 
— ah ! that was the time to hear the lion roar ! The 
two would proceed to unbosom themselves, safe in 
the thought that they understood each other, and 
any fine sentiment they might give way to was only 
skin deep. Your ideal crocodile is born, and not 
made, and from the hour that the system was pro- 


SAINT MAMMON 


359 

claimed it was discovered that society had always 
been full of them. 

There are heights of crocodile rapture to which 
only the initiated can hope to attain. Mr. Wil- 
loughby rose to them by a kind of intuition. It was 
only necessary for him to wrap himself in the per- 
sonality of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, and he was the 
incarnation of crocodile idealism. At such moments 
he realized what was meant by the expression, “the 
naked soul. ,, This was right in the crocodile line, 
because it taught the advantage of using empty 
words in such fashion that they might pass for 
heart-throbs. 

Nothing pleases a crocodile more, when he is in 
the mood for it, than to meet some unsophisticated 
person who is willing to take his remarks seriously. 
The crocodile system has this great advantage, that 
it can be taken in jest, or accepted in earnest. The 
fun comes in, however, when you meet a party who 
accepts all sentiment as genuine, at least so Mr. 
Willoughby found. He was constantly being placed 
in situations where he had to pump up sympathy 
he could not possibly feel. Of course, anyone who 
knew him would understand what he was driving 
at, but some stranger, or some serious-minded per- 
son — really, it was amusing to watch the effect of 
mere crocodile courtesy in such a case. 

One day Mr. Willoughby met a man who had 
a grievance against society, and was bound to air 
it. He could not get away from him, but had to 
hear him through. However, he simply gave a 


SAINT MAMMON 


360 

crocodile assent to everything he said, and saved 
himself the bother of arguing with him. 

Heavens ! What things that man made him lis- 
ten to ! 

He abused Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, sneered at 
Mrs. Saltearth, and insinuated that every member 
of the professionally-fashionable set was a libertine. 
Mr. Willoughby did not even attempt to refute a 
single one of his statements, but he simply smiled 
a crocodile smile, and let him go his way. Of course, 
he took care to shun that man afterward as he 
would a pestilence. Nevertheless, his treatment of 
him was a triumph of the crocodile idea. Mr. Wil- 
loughby felt now that he had become a crocodile of 
crocodiles. 

When, too, he read an article in a newspaper to 
the effect that Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller’s husband, 
who was head of a banking syndicate, ought to be 
in jail, he was more than ever convinced that the 
crocodile idea would be the salvation of society. 

Again he was forced to listen to a man who de- 
clared that every millionaire was a criminal, and 
Wall Street was equivalent to the penitentiary. But 
he simply gave a crocodile smile, and his silence was 
golden. 

That was the charm of the whole system. A 
crocodile is not afraid to listen to attacks on his 
dearest friends. He sits unmoved while the things 
he holds sacred are torn to shreds before his eyes. 
It is not enough to be able to pump up interest in 
the commonest things, because they are considered 


SAINT MAMMON 


3^1 

good form. It is not enough to counterfeit feeling, 
and indulge in mock sentiment, without harm to 
one’s self. A crocodile can ignore things that would 
otherwise shock him, by simply wrapping himself 
in crocodile apathy. It is grand ! It is philosoph- 
ical ! 

And, withal, how necessary at times ! It is a re- 
lief to be able to do this on demand. To shed tears 
over some trifle, because that trifle happens to be of 
moment, is almost a triumph of art. It saves a man 
from boredom, and from appearing to be out of 
sympathy with his surroundings. 

Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby had become so skilled 
in the use of crocodile sham that he could deceive 
himself into the belief that his sentiment was real, 
when it was only make-believe. Trifles did not 
bother him any more, nor subterfuge annoy him. 
He simply turned crocodile at the drop of the hat, 
and shed his moral responsibilities as a duck’s back 
sheds water. In a crocodile sense he could take 
an interest in the people that would pass out of the 
memory of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, and this was 
proof that he had carried the crocodile theory to the 
very limits of the philosophical. 

He was now able to take only a crocodile interest 
in the war, since Mrs. Snubbody-Jones’s approval 
of it had robbed it of the one element of danger; 
and surely his way of doing so was preferable to 
the conduct of some newspapers. They were mak- 
ing themselves ridiculous criticising generals and 


SAINT MAMMON 


362 

admirals, and telling the War Department itself 
just how a campaign should be conducted. 

Evidently it would not be a bad idea if the great 
American people would sometimes take a crocodile 
view of their own enthusiasm. 

But even Mr. Willoughby had to admit that the 
ideal crocodile was to be found among the gentler 
sex. It comes more natural to women than to men. 
Ah! how pleasant it was to sit in some cozy bou- 
doir, and enjoy a crocodile tete-a-tete with a society 
belle! What outpourings of crocodile sentiment, 
what crocodile heart-throbs, what beautiful femi- 
nine rhapsodies, Mr. Willoughby listened to now! 
According to the crocodile canon, a woman need 
not be afraid to enthuse over the beauty of a rival. 
Two ladies with hate in their hearts could sit and 
purr to each other in a way that is charming to be- 
hold. Yes, and they could say such lovely things 
about each other to mutual friends, without danger 
of being thought spiteful. Envy, hatred, and mal- 
ice, these gentle creatures could put from them, and 
translate them all into crocodile admiration. 

The devil found out in Eden how women can be 
tempted, and he wisely decided to get* at man 
through her. The moral of this is worth consider- 
ing, in these days, when our race has forgotten its 
former innocence, and is too prone to listen to the 
voice of the tempter, if he assails us through our cu- 
pidity. The writer has not hesitated to admit that 
Mrs. Humphrey Provost was a very selfish woman, 
and would not stick at a trifle when her comfort 


SAINT MAMMON 


363 

was concerned. She would take care, however, that 
she could not be unpleasantly criticised by so doing, 
and in this respect she was past mistress of the 
crocodile art. 

She had won on every move, and had the field 
well in hand for her last sensational play for sym- 
pathy. It only remained now for her to show what 
a martyr she had been all these years, and her sister- 
in-law stupidly furnished her the opportunity to do 
the worm-turning act in the limelight of society. 

One day Mr. Humphrey Provost showed up in 
New York unexpectedly, and Mrs. Saltearth inso- 
lently ordered Prudence to leave town at once, as 
she had agreed to do when her husband chose to 
remain in it. 

Prudence must have laughed gleefully at this 
move on the part of her enemy. She would not 
have been human if she had not felt a bit elated 
over such a blunder. As a matter of fact, she re- 
joiced with exceeding great joy. The opportunity 
to strike the great blow had come at last, and she 
could not have asked for a better pretext to pose 
for sympathy than the one now afforded her. 

Prudence threw off the mask at once, and an- 
nounced to all her friends that she would seek a di- 
vorce. Nobody blamed her. They all felt that 
the limit had been reached. 

Even Mr. Willoughby had to admit the justice 
of her action, although he had been neutral for 
some time now. Bless my soul ! must this poor 
woman resign the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 


SAINT MAMMON 


364 

when she had been at such pains to win it? It was 
outrageous to request such a thing, and Mrs. Salt- 
earth should be more reasonable. 

Everybody else took practically the same view 
of the case, although they may not have expressed 
their sentiment in the same fashion. If ever a 
woman had been a martyr to a family spite, Pru- 
dence was the one of all others. She had done so 
much to conciliate her husband, and had shut her 
eyes to so many things. Mrs. Saltearth should feel 
grateful to her for the way she had submitted to 
neglect and insult. Her meekness would touch the 
heart of her bitterest enemy. She had always con- 
ducted herself with decorum, and such insolent 
treatment was an insult to her. 

All these things Prudence took care that people 
should feel, and say. She let it be known that her 
sister-in-law was jealous of her growing social pow- 
er. The amount of crocodile sympathy she suc- 
ceeded in stirring up in her behalf was astonishing. 

Mrs. Saltearth had made the fatal mistake of 
underrating Prudence’s power all along, and she had 
not learned anything from the experiences of the 
last few months. She bore herself in the most arro- 
gant fashion, and we have seen how she offended 
Mr. Willoughby by threatening to defy Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones. A few people tried to warn her, even 
now, but all in vain. She simply would not see 
the drift of things. She could not comprehend. 

What pen shall picture her mortification when 
she discovered, all too late, that she had made an- 


SAINT MAMMON 


3^5 

other blunder? She had to be told that Prudence 
had shown forbearance as few other women would 
have done. She had to witness the triumph of this 
adventuress’s plans, believing all the time that she 
was acting to deceive people and get sympathy, and 
yet she was unable to unmask her. As a last bitter 
drop in the cup, she had to send for Mr. Willough- 
by himself, and ask him to use his influence to get 
the divorce evidence taken in secret. Alas! how 
had the mighty fallen, and who shall say that there 
is any punishment so terrible as having to swallow 
your own pride ? 

At first, Prudence declared that the trial must be 
a public one. She grew quite frantic to her friends 
when she made this announcement. She wanted to 
go before a jury and tell the story of her martyr- 
dom in the newspapers. She wished the world to 
know what she had suffered, and what she had 
borne. 

But Mr. Willoughby was able to use some mys- 
terious influence to make her consent to a secret 
hearing. No defence was made. The judge handed 
in a decision in Prudence’s favor, and she was grant- 
ed a separation, with the right to marry again. 
Within a few days afterward she had become the 
bride of Sir Lionel Dudley, and had left America 
for good and all. 

Mrs. Saltearth had the further mortification of 
seeing everybody attend this wedding, and society 
giving countenance to the rival she so hated. She 
could not speak now, because nobody would listen 


SAINT MAMMON 


3^6 

to her. In fact, she had been beaten so badly she 
could not get up enough courage to do anything. 
When she had recovered her feelings sufficiently to 
act it was too late; the bird had flown. 

The old saying, “It is an ill wind that blows no- 
body any good,” was vindicated in the case of Mr. 
Willoughby during this unpleasant business. Peo- 
ple noted with wonder the power he was able to 
bring to bear on the late Mrs. Humphrey Provost, 
and everybody gave him credit for the use he made 
of it. Society felt that it owed much to him, and 
his position was assured from this time forward. 

He was the confidant of everybody, and he 
smoothed over all difficulties. Even Mrs. Saltearth 
was forced to express her gratitude to him after- 
ward for the stand he took, and she showed it in 
a way he could best appreciate. 

Fortunately, the newspapers were inclined to ig- 
nore this affair. The war was in full swing, and 
reporters had suddenly blossomed out as strategists 
with military ideas that would have dazzled the 
great Napoleon. Relying on their own infallibility, 
editors who never attended a guard-mount threw 
themselves into the conflict with unrestrained en- 
thusiasm. In heavy headlines they rushed to the 
charge, and the carnage of printer’s ink was fright- 
ful to behold. Consequently, a society scandal, 
which at any other time would have called for col- 
umns of criticism for everybody remotely connected 
with it, was dismissed in a few lines, in order that 


SAINT MAMMON 367 

the War Department might not lose a chance to 
get enlightenment from the papers. 

But if publicity had been given to this affair, Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby would have been discovered 
posing before the public for the tact he displayed. 
If his position was a trying one, he deserved the 
more credit for the way he conducted himself. He 
worked hard to hold Prudence in check, as every- 
body saw, and he placed Mrs. Saltearth under obli- 
gations to him. But he got his reward. Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones permitted herself to praise him to peo- 
ple, and he had the extreme felicity of knowing 
that she approved of everything he did. One day, 
too, she very graciously remarked that he had made 
society his debtor. 

But the fact was, he was moved to do great 
things. He seemed to be haunted by a vision of 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones permitting herself to be wor- 
ried over the situation because of outsiders and 
new people. Her sad eyes were always before 
him, and they called forth all the chivalry of his 
nature. There was a possibility, also, that Mrs. 
Snubbody-Jones, in turn, might permit herself to 
be touched by this proof of his devotion. 

Toward the last the affair took on a somewhat 
ludicrous aspect, however. Mr. Willoughby’s sis- 
ter, Mrs. Wadham Adams, chose to interest herself 
in the case. Of course, the motive that impelled 
this pious woman to seek to cast down the mighty 
from their seats was of the most philanthropic sort. 
Nevertheless, she had found out the greatest num- 


SAINT MAMMON 


368 

ber of things about the greatest number of people, 
and she took advantage of this opportunity to cir- 
culate them. Some of them had no bearing on the 
case at all, but they served her purpose. 

Heretofore, Mr. Willoughby had taken his sis- 
ter seriously, but he resolved now to treat her in 
a crocodile fashion. As it turned out, it worked 
admirably. 

He made her think that he was in earnest all 
the time; that was the amusing part of it. He pre- 
tended to be very much alarmed about her state- 
ments, but it was crocodile alarm, because he took 
care to render them harmless. He followed her 
about like her own shadow, and sprung her traps 
as soon as she had set them. If she called on any- 
body for the purpose of spreading scandals, he pre- 
sented himself at the same house, learned what she 
had said, and corrected it before her puzzled hear- 
ers had grasped the situation. In this way he saved 
them from making an indiscreet remark, and the 
crocodile effect was impressive. 


CHAPTER VI 


Modern society should be taken in a crocodile 
sense, and then, perhaps, there would be fewer 
heart-breaks caused by its disappointments. It will 
always have its hypocritical side, and some of its 
most important occurrences are only significant from 
a crocodile standpoint. 

Contrariwise, the events which we are narrating, 
although seemingly trivial, had a far-reaching ef- 
fect. Society was revolutionizing about this time, 
and the old standard was going out of fashion. The 
over-rich were beginning to flock by themselves, and 
there was an influx of people very wealthy and 
well placed from other cities. The social formula 
was becoming more complex, and conservative lead- 
ers were put to their wits’ end to hold their places. 

It must be confessed that Mr. Willoughby was 
taking a somewhat narrow view when he assumed 
that every road to greatness led up to the favor of 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones. Candor compels the admis- 
sion that there were other women in society worthy 
of being classed with her. Mrs. Uppercrust-Miller, 
for instance, enjoyed an enviable reputation for her 
success in dress, and had a large following in con- 
369 


SAINT MAMMON 


37 ° 

sequence. At horse shows and operas, where ladies 
vie with one another to create a new fashion in 
gowns, she had many triumphs to her credit. 

Then, too, Mrs. Saltearth’s partisans were not 
to be despised, as Prudence very well knew. Ex- 
cept she got away from New York when she did, 
she would surely have been made to feel their 
power. 

Perhaps it would be proper to say that Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones’s position might be likened to that 
of a general overseer of the many sets into which 
society might break up at any moment. It had 
often been remarked that she managed to be neu- 
tral whenever a clash came, or a crisis seemed im- 
minent. Then she would very graciously permit 
herself to assert her authority, in such a way as 
added to her prestige. 

Furthermore, if anybody else were to attempt 
to form a syndicate out of society she would have 
no trouble in foiling them. 

It is worthy of note that in this present quarrel 
she did not commit herself by word or action to 
any clique, but ignored them all. Even Mrs. Salt- 
earth was forced to admit this afterward, and she 
had to concede, also, that her standing as a society 
leader was greater than it had ever been. 

But it is more to our purpose to note the fact that 
Prudence left one man behind her in America who 
felt as if he had been freed from bondage. Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby was perfectly satisfied in his 
own mind that if she had stayed in the country an- 


SAINT MAMMON 


37i 


other week she would have succeeded in passing 
out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, and 
thus brought her career to> an inglorious issue. In 
fact, he believed that she only got away in time 
to escape a calamity so direful. It was such a relief 
to get her off his hands ! 

Doubtless all his friends thought Mr. Willough- 
by a cold man, and unapproachable from the stand- 
point of sentiment. But, ah! if the world only 
knew ! He had loved a woman once, whom his 
own brother had wronged. He had loved her in 
her infamy, and in his grief at his brother’s shame. 
But he had freed himself from the tyranny of that 
love by the loyal service he had been able to do 
for her. Perhaps, if he had not been able to per- 
form it he could not have borne his cross so meekly. 

He accepted it partly in atonement for his broth- 
er’s sin, and partly because of a puritanical con- 
science that bade him do his full duty by her when- 
ever she chose to demand it. He had been the soul 
of honor in all his dealings with her, and had stood 
foster-parent to her child. He had seen this daugh- 
ter turn from her in shame when she realized the 
truth about her parentage. He had then forced 
her to accept the mother whom she might have 
learned to despise. 

What is more, he had been this woman’s sole 
friend and champion when her enemies raged 
against her. How often had Prudence shielded 
herself from scandal about her past by stating that 


372 


SAINT MAMMON 


Mr. Willoughby had known her first husband, and 
could vouch for her ! 

And lastly, he had refused to yield to temptation, 
when she was poor and helpless, and wholly in his 
power. He was young then, and passion was strong 
within him. He could have loved her madly to 
his own undoing, but he conquered the impulses 
of an ignoble love. He was a Puritan and an an- 
chorite combined. 

This woman had clung to him all these years, and 
had used him brutally to advance her own inter- 
ests, but he never murmured under her tyranny. 
How often had he been tempted to turn on her 
in the name of his sex, just to show her what man- 
hood and real chivalry are. His very meekness 
was proof of what his love might have been, if his 
brother had not sinned. He told himself he could 
have worshipped her if he had not found her out, 
and if his regard for her had not been flung in 
his face with all the force of a cruel blow. He 
had seen her use others as selfishly as she used him, 
and it had comforted him to think he could be of 
service to her without asking anything in return. 
His refined nature was puritanical, and she had 
often shocked it. What do some women think men 
are? Sometimes it enraged Mr. Willoughby to per- 
ceive how blind this one was to his true feeling. He 
had checked himself more than once on the point 
of making a confession that would have humbled 
her in her own eyes, for the thoughtless way in 


SAINT MAMMON 


373 

which she used him ; but he never spoke, or hinted, 
a word to cause her uneasiness on his account. 

Now it was all over. She was happily married, 
and her secret was safe in his keeping. He knew 
she could make a good wife. She had been shielded 
from the pitfalls that led to her first downfall, and 
the experiences she had faced had prepared her to 
accept her position, and not rebel against her hus- 
band from this time forward. But he — ah! the 
book of youth was closed to him forever, and with 
it youth’s fondest dreams and longings. He had 
settled down into a society sycophant, and who will 
blame him if he forgot every other feeling in his 
jnad devotion to a social ambition ? 

But enough of these harrowing thoughts ! Away 
with pensive melancholy! In what should a man 
glory, save in the favor of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones? 

With the clearness of a seer, Mr. Willoughby 
read the signs of the times. Schisms would rage 
among the elect. False leaders would arise, to bring 
on confusion by their foolish counsel. Then would 
come the awakening. Everybody would tire of 
wrangling, and clamor for peace. Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones would assert her power, and she might be 
able to carry out her ideas about a fashionable syn- 
dicate. 

Mr. Willoughby could only feel compassion for 
those who did not have his sense of penetration, but 
were now wrangling among themselves about their 
petty jealousies, and small points of precedence. 
Poor, blind souls! Didn’t they stop to consider 


374 


SAINT MAMMON 


that they were putting themselves in the way of 
passing out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones? Never had he witnessed such folly, and 
except that it was forced to his attention^ he would 
not have believed it possible. 


CHAPTER VII 


One of the world’s wise men has declared when 
you praise a woman’s beauty you endanger her scul. 

With this moral in view, the reader is invited 
to study Madge Willoughby at a most trying pe- 
riod of her life. She was turning penitent against 
the snares of Mammon in pure chagrin, and was 
indulging in theories of self-immolation. 

She had been petted, and flattered, and all but 
spoiled, until a rude awakening came to her in the 
startling events we have been narrating. She felt 
now that her pride had been brought low and her 
idols shattered. 

Neither did she seek to spare herself. On the 
contrary, she admitted that she had yielded too 
easily to the blandishments of society. The punish- 
ment that was so humiliating to her pride was de- 
served. 

But the kind of self-chastisement to which she 
now submitted means much to her sex. Doubtless 
every young girl has set up in her heart an altar 
to an unknown god, on which she may offer incense 
to false ideals in all innocence. Some day, how- 
ever, an awakening is bound to come, and with it 
womanhood will assert itself. 


375 


SAINT MAMMON 


376 

Such now was the case with Madge, although she 
was too mortified to understand it at first. 

How did she ever live through the ordeal of 
her mother’s divorce ? When it was over she went 
back to the hotel and had a good cry. 

And even now the reaction began to work for 
good. A voice that was brave and true whispered 
to her conscience, and bade her take hope. She was 
free at last. She had thrown off the shackles of 
Mammon, and would never be enthralled again. 
Bitter as these experiences were, they were making 
a woman of her. 

She needed such comforting thoughts, for there 
were plenty of people eager to remind her of the 
things she would fain forget. The enemies of the 
late Mrs. Humphrey Provost seemed to take de- 
light in tormenting her. Foiled of their real prey, 
they turned to this girl, who had been the other 
woman’s confidante, and poured their hate in her 
ears. Little did they suspect how deeply they 
wounded her. She dared not protest, for fear she 
might say too much, but the stories she was forced 
to listen to made her rage. 

What could she think of a mother who ran 
away and left her to endure all this alone and un- 
protected ? 

Mrs. Saltearth continued to attack her late sis- 
ter-in-law long after people ceased to be interested 
in the matter. It is not necessary to give in detail 
the various crimes which she charged to Prudence’s 
account, unless one were anxious to show how rela- 


SAINT MAMMON 


377 

tives can hate each other when their interests clash. 
It is significant, however, that factional fights broke 
out among the elect on account of this divorce. In- 
deed, it is no exaggeration to say that Prudence had 
bequeathed a legacy of trouble to society, which 
may have been her object all along. People began 
now to dig up grudges against each other, and to 
air them, with disastrous results. Two branches 
of one prominent family fell to wrangling about 
some trifle, and one of them left America in a rage, 
never to return. In short, a social reign of terror 
seemed to have swept over the professionally-fash- 
ionable world about this time, and ere it had worked 
itself out society had undergone a change. 

It is worthy of remark, however, that when the 
affair had blown over, Mrs. Snubbody-Jones very 
graciously permitted herself to remember that she 
had forgotten all about it. 

It was this master stroke that increased her repu- 
tation as a society leader, and brought the different 
factions to her feet again. 

But where was Mr. Willoughby all this time, and 
why did he not come to his niece’s aid? As her 
natural guardian, he should have comforted her 
now. Could it be that he had grown indifferent 
to her altogether? 

Do not judge him harshly, reader. He was too 
much taken up with other matters to notice whether 
Madge was in trouble or not. 

We must remember that Mrs. Snubbody-Jones 
claimed his attention, and in his devotion to her 


378 SAINT MAMMON, 

interests he was capable of forgetting his own flesh 
and blood. 

It is hardly necessary to reiterate the fact that 
Mrs. Snubbody- Jones believed outsiders and new 
people were plotting against society during this cri- 
sis. Did she not permit herself to pose as a martyr 
largely on their account? With diabolical cunning, 
they were scheming to get the elect at loggerheads, 
so as to advance their own interests. This present 
schism was of their making, she argued, and held 
herself aloof from the petty quarrels into which 
all her friends were drawn. Her time to act would 
be when a crisis was reached, and new people and 
outsiders needed to be disciplined. 

It was Mr. Willoughby’s privilege to share her 
prejudices, and be her confidant, at this trying pe- 
riod. If he had admired Mrs. Snubbody- Jones here- 
tofore, he learned to regard her as the real cham- 
pion of society now, and it would not have been 
difficult to persuade him that her name should be 
enrolled among the world’s greatest and best. 

Let there be no mistake about this matter. Oth- 
ers are responsible for the liberties of America. 
Mrs. Snubbody-Jones claims to have made society 
in America by founding the professionally-fashion- 
able set. When we are ready to erect a monument 
to the genius of the drawing-room, her rights can- 
not be ignored. 

Few people realize what a tremendous task it 
is to produce an aristocracy in a land of extensive 
liberty, where any attempt to set up a class system 


SAINT MAMMON 


379 

would be resented. To found society in America, 
on the same lines that have succeeded in England 
or France, would be effort thrown away. Besides, 
servile imitation is not in keeping with our self- 
esteem. If we must have privilege, let it be Ameri- 
can, at least, and in sympathy with the American 
idea. 

For society we must have, that is certain. 

What! Must we submit to the patronage of 
some class in Europe because we have nothing of 
our own to compare with it? Are we a lot of bar- 
barians, without manners, without refinement, with- 
out high ideals? Are Americans only to receive 
the masses of Europe, and accept their standards? 
Can we never hope to meet its nobility on their 
own level? 

Democracy must not expect to drag things down 
too far! 

It is high time our social Declaration of Inde- 
pendence were written, so that all the world may 
read. 

Was there ever civilization worthy of note that 
did not have some form of aristocracy in it? 

But how £re we to have a privileged order in a 
country where equality is preached ? 

Ask Mrs. Snubbody- Jones. .Time and again she 
had declared there was but one way to do it, and 
that was to make a profession for it. Place so- 
ciety on a par with law, medicine, or art. Let it 
be a great specialty, a science unto itself, that peo- 


SAINT MAMMON 


380 

pie can take up as a life work. Then the Ameri- 
can upper class will come. 

But an aristocracy without titles must be profes- 
sional. 

There is no other chance for it. 

There can be no doubt about this. Mr. Roose- 
velt Willoughby had investigated the matter, and 
he shut his eyes against the claims of all other lead- 
ers. They might become powers within some clique. 
They could exploit themselves in local connection. 
But the great national figure in the world of privi- 
lege and fashion was Mrs. Snubbody- Jones, who 
created the professionally-fashionable set. 

However, we must not forget that she chose to 
consider herself a martyr to her position. Were 
not her very slumbers haunted by visions of out- 
siders and new people? 

But if the reader is going to pump up sympathy 
for her now, let it be of the crocodile kind. 

There is too much crocodile genius in these days 
and too much crocodile art. 

It is also possible that there may be crocodile 
heroes, and crocodile martyrs. 

Therefore, we can readily understand why it was 
that Mr. Willoughby ignored his niece at this try- 
ing period. If, however, further excuse is needed 
for him, it must be borne in mind that the girl was 
dangerous from his standpoint. There was no tell- 
ing what she might do next, nor what class of peo- 
ple she might choose to be identified with. She was 
capable of becoming the champion of some outsider 


SAINT MAMMON 


38i 

who was very objectionable to Mrs. Snubbody- 
Jones. Naturally, her uncle felt he was justified in 
washing his hands of her. 

Left to herself, Madge became very morbid, and 
she took a cynical view of the fashionable world 
in which she had been moving. Society, with its 
glamor, its appetite for sensationalism, its shallow 
ostentation, how she detested it! It seemed to have 
unmasked itself all at once, and she fancied she 
beheld the cloven hoof, and heard the mocking 
laugh of the Blessed Saint Mammon, whom all 
these poor deluded creatures were serving, to their 
undoing. 

For, as Christ came to redeem men, Mammon 
is trying to corrupt them. 

Thus the forces of evil war on truth. 

Madge never suspected that there was SO' much 
religion in her nature as she discovered now. Or 
was it puritanical heredity that spoke to her con- 
science, and was calling out forces that make for 
character-building ? 

But, strange as it may seem, she went back to 
the very society she was criticising with an added 
zest for it. This time, however, it was not to copy 
it, but to try to forget. 

People noted the change in her, and it began to 
be whispered that she was dangerous. She said 
bright things, but they cut. Some knowing ones 
even hinted that it was on her account Van Whist 
Bridges had left America so suddenly. Word came 
from Paris that he was very bitter against Ameri- 


382 


SAINT MAMMON 


can girls. He was heard to declare that they ought 
to be sold to* Turks, and shut up in harems. How- 
ever, he had evidently decided to settle down to 
matrimony. Soon after his return he commissioned 
his mother to get him a wife in France, and he 
was careful to stipulate the exact amount of dot 
she must bring him. 

But we must not think, because we have snapped 
some heart-string, that our lives are to be out of 
tune forever. It is mended sooner than we think, 
and we are sure to fit a tougher cord in its place. 
Thus Madge was beginning to argue, her natural 
strength of mind asserting itself at last. 

Jack Allers told her once that she needed some 
humiliation to bring out the best that was in her. 
She recalled these words with a feeling of regret. 
It was mortifying to think that he had read her 
character so well. He was above weaknesses him- 
self, and doubtless he considered her frivolous. If 
she could meet him again he would have reason 
to change his opinion. Frivolous, indeed! Jack 
Allers would learn a lesson, if she could talk with 
him now for a brief half hour. 

But here, again, came a second shock. One day 
she received a frantic letter from Mrs. Tom Allers, 
begging her to come to her at once. She announced 
that Jack had been wounded, perhaps killed, at 
San Juan, and Tom was hurrying to Cuba to bring 
him home, dead or alive. 


BOOK VIII 


CHAPTER I 

When the Stars and Stripes are waving, 

In the heaven so free ; 

When heroes death are braving, 

Think, oh, think of me! 

And remember, 

Oh, remember, 

The Union won’t dismember! 

And again I say remember 
That I died — 

That I died — 

For Liberty! 

Again we are forced to touch on military events, 
and must beg the reader to bear in mind that, while 
the incidents above narrated were taking place, 
Johnny Trumps was winning glory for himself and 
his flag, both on land and sea. 

If the war had been a cleverly planned drama, 
gotten up on a large scale for the entertainment of 
the American people, it could not have been more 
of a success than it was. No sooner did the curtain 
go down on one act, amid international applause, 
3 8 3 


SAINT MAMMON 


384 

than it went up on another equally startling and 
unexpected; and as the plot developed there were 
unfolded to the astonished gaze of the public sen- 
sational climaxes which rivaled the blood-and-thun- 
der plays of the stage. There is no more artistic 
war in all history, from a purely dramatic stand- 
point. 

Perhaps, however, it was not orthodox in one 
particular, in that it broke the law of place. But 
it did not offend in regard to unity of time and ac- 
tion. For, no matter where the scenes were laid, 
the Americans were scheduled to thrash the enemy 
on a given date, and with so ridiculously small loss 
to themselves that the feats performed by the hero 
of a Bowery melodrama were fairly outdone. Some 
of the public who were supposed to make up the 
audience could not believe these victories on first 
report. However, they had to get used to them, 
and were soon resigned to hearing of achievements 
that surpassed the feats of ancient knights-errant. 

But what was it made San Juan a watchword 
in American history, so that to-day it is taking the 
place of Bunker Hill? 

Listen to the story of an insignificant private in 
the ranks, who was there, saw with his own eyes, 
felt with his own soul, and told it to a comrade 
who could not get there, but wanted to hear the tale 
from a fellow-private’s own lips. 

There was a lot of confusion at the time of the 
embarkation in Cuba. Officers were running around 
like mad, screaming their lungs out, and trying to 


SAINT MAMMON 


385 

find where we were at. Some said we didn’t have 
enough rations. Some said we didn’t have the right 
kind of a gun. Some said there wasn’t enough 
smokeless powder. Some said nobody knew where 
anything was, and the army was going to the per- 
dition bow-wows. 

Johnny Trumps was working like a Trojan, and 
he was not feeling good, either. He was being 
pleaded with in one breath to do more than he was 
doing, and in the next he was being cursed because 
he couldn’t. Everything was babel, chaos, and 
Johnny Trumps was feeling blue. 

Then all at once something remarkable hap- 
pened. 

Out of the swamps and morasses sneaked a lot of 
Gomez’s men, and invaded the American camp. 
They were gaunt, starved fellows, mere living skele- 
tons. On their emaciated faces was stamped all 
the suffering of poor Cuba. They raised their 
streaming eyes to heaven, and called down God’s 
blessing on Old Glory and the Boys in Blue. 

Now came the miracle. 

There is plenty of poetry in Johnny Trumps, 
only he isn’t going around parading it. As we wish 
to be polite, however, let us say his sentiments ex- 
press themselves in the following lines : 

“In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across 
the sea. 

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make 
men free,” 


SAINT MAMMON 


386 

This was what Johnny Trumps thought, all 
right, but it wasn’t what he said. He dropped the 
box he was lifting and cried aloud: “What the 
hell!” And it wasn’t an oath, neither. 

Then he sent an ultimatum to his officers : “Lead 
us on! We want to fight !” 

And the officers obeyed. 

Neither was it the first time they had received 
instructions from the privates in the ranks. During 
the Civil War the soldiers sent word to their gen- 
eral once that they would not pull a trigger unless 
in the next battle the men in shoulder-straps let them 
fight to a finish, without calling them off. The gen- 
eral promised, and the battle that followed lasted 
three days, was the bloodiest in our history, and 
the turning point in the conflict. 

Now it was those Cuban faces, those Cuban tears, 
those Cuban blessings, that won the battle of San 
Juan Hill. After that, Johnny Trumps did not 
care whether he had enough rations, whether his 
gun was the right pattern, whether there was 
smokeless powder in the army or not. He started 
for San Juan, and nothing could hold him back. 

Listen, now, old Mother Europe, with all your 
mighty armaments, with your love of power. San 
Juan has become an American watchword. No for- 
eign despotism shall ever place its foot on the necks 
of an American people again. San Juan ! So mote 
it be! , 

Once it was Bunker Hill, and Mother England 
learned a lesson. Then it was “Remember the 


SAINT MAMMON 


387 

Alamo!” and the Latin-American got his dose. 
Then it was “Save the Union !” and we taught our- 
selves something we shall never forget. Now it is 
the Monroe Doctrine, and the others are dead is- 
sues. 

But perhaps there was just a touch of bravado in 
it all. At least there was a feeling that the war 
would not last long, and it were best to make the 
most of it while it did. Wars, nowadays, are rare 
sport, anyhow, and men that have trained a life- 
time may never smell powder. The poor beggars 
left behind in camp are having the fight drilled out 
of them, and are getting the fever in the bargain. 
How glad some of them would be if they could 
have your chance ! So make the most of your op- 
portunity, and the odds be hanged ! 

Our men were there to force the fighting, not to 
display a knowledge of the finer art of war. They 
were after that other army, and they were going 
to get it, too; not part of it, but the whole outfit, 
from general down to company cooks. 

But Nemesis was America’s ally. The sins Spain 
had committed, the wrongs she had done humanity, 
had risen up against her and taken arms. 


CHAPTER II 


The gallant N-th bore a prominent part in this 
very trying campaign, and merited applause for the 
way it signalized itself. From Guasimas to San- 
tiago, its record was one of honor, and one day 
an incident befell which showed what its reputation 
was in high quarters. 

They were returning to camp after a hard march, 
when a general rode in among them. He appeared 
so suddenly that the officers had no time to com- 
mand the customary salute, and he forbade it by 
a gesture. 

“Don’t salute me !” he cried. “I salute you !” 

He took off his hat, and remained bareheaded as 
the column filed by, the men cheering wildly. 

Charley Poindexter was reported among the dead 
in one battle. He was seen to take such chances 
with that field-gun of his that everybody assumed 
he must be killed. Nevertheless, when the action 
was over he showed up unharmed, and refused to 
say anything about himself. But his commanding 
officer afterward recommended him for promotion. 

Dick Twaddleby got a reputation for being a 
sharpshooter in a way that was somewhat ludicrous. 
Happening to fire into a tree at random, a Spaniard 

388 


SAINT MAMMON 


3^9 

tumbled out of it, to the astonishment of everybody. 
Perhaps, too, Richard was surprised himself, only 
he did not betray it, but fell to reloading his piece, 
as if this sort of thing were his specialty. Hence- 
forward he was numbered among the crack marks- 
men of the regiment. 

Stacey Mansfield was wounded at El Paso, and 
might have bled to death if it had not been for a 
young surgeon who followed the men into the firing 
line to look after the wounded. He picked Stacey 
up, staunched his wound, and carried him to the 
rear on his own shoulders until he fell in with the 
hospital corps. 

But one of the bravest and most daring of them 
all, in fact, one of the most daredevil men in the 
regiment, was Jack Allers. 

He had been such a moody fellow until the real 
fighting began, many thought he lacked stamina, 
and his tentmates decided he was morose and ill- 
natured. But the reckless way in which he threw 
himself into a battle redeemed his reputation later 
on, although there was a kind of dull despair about 
his very bravery. 

He used to get letters from his sister-in-law, 
which he devoured eagerly. They were full of ap- 
proval of the course he had taken, Mrs. Tom even 
declaring she wished she were a man herself, so she 
could be a soldier. But there was no mention of 
Madge in any of these epistles. 

One day he ran across a New York paper, and 
after reading it he became moodier than ever. He 


390 


SAINT MAMMON 


had seen Madge’s name mentioned in connection 
with some social event, and the inference he drew 
therefrom did not comfort him. The girl is heart- 
less, selfish, and wholly given to frivolity, he told 
himself. The world of wealth and fashion has 
ruined her beyond hope. He had held a different 
opinion of her once. There was so much good in 
her, so much to admire, to put faith in, that he 
had believed she would resist temptation, but Mam- 
mon had her now. 

The only antidote for his melancholy was excite- 
ment, and fighting could furnish that. Therefore, 
he was eager for danger. It is almost miraculous 
that he was not killed, but, somehow, fortune favors 
the daring. 

Again he found himself excusing her conduct. 
After all, she was only influenced by others. It 
was Mammon that had corrupted her — Mammon, 
selfish, blase, cynical. It seemed to be sneering 
at him now, ridiculing his passion, denying him love 
and happiness. He fancied he could hear its mock- 
ing laugh, and it grated on his ear. Society, as he 
depicted it, was a debauched, sensual monster, that 
was gloating over his despair. He loathed the very 
thought of it, and sought to forget it in the danger 
about him. 

From these gloomy reflections he roused himself 
one evening to discover that the regiment was biv- 
ouacked at the foot of the San Juan hills, expect- 
ing to storm them in the morning. Silence hung 
over the encampment like a pall, but it was in vain 


SAINT MAMMON 


39i 


that men sought repose. The nervousness that pre- 
cedes a battle tells on the bravest, and even old 
veterans felt it now. 

A few soldiers, seemingly indifferent, were gath- 
ered about a campfire, which threw out a feeble 
light. Some were sewing numbers on their coats, 
so their bodies could be identified. Others were 
writing letters home, or, gathered in groups of two 
and three, were pledging each other to carry mes- 
sages to friends and families far away. There was 
a fearful tension of uncertainty hanging over the 
camp that tried the nerves of the most stoical. 

Jack Allers noted these things with a grim smile, 
and his heart exulted within him. Here again was 
the chance for which he was looking. Again man- 
hood was to be put to the proof, and of this he had 
no fear. 

Already the colors were being carried through 
the ranks to keep up the courage of the men, and 
at the sight murmurs of applause burst from every 
lip. No one knows how much that flag stands for 
until he sees it leading the way to glory. It is the 
symbol of all the soldier holds dear — honor, fidel- 
ity, faithfulness unto death. 

Now the ranks were forming, preparatory to the 
attack. It is a great relief, because this thinking 
about it is so demoralizing. Forward is spoken, 
and the command is obeyed with alacrity. There 
is a faint glimmer in the east, which many a hero 
turns to look at, not knowing whether he may be- 
hold the like again. But no man falters. 


392 


SAINT MAMMON 


“To the bayonet ! At them, my bullies 1” 

The column is breasting the hill now, a circle 
of fire marking its advance ; a circle that always goes 
forward, nearer to the crest, where other circles 
are blazing and flaming, in the effort to hurl it 
back — but all in vain. 

Jack Allers is in the thick of it now, and the fierce 
joy of the warrior is upon him. Each throb of 
his pulse, each beat of his heart, each breath that 
he draws, seems to keep time to the battle measure. 
On he goes, every step toward glory, every second 
lengthened into a span. Already the enemy’s lines 
are in sight. Already their officers can be seen, 
half rising on their elbows to aim their pistols. He 
has set his bayonet for the lunge. Now, then ! 

Suddenly a cry of agony bursts from his lips. He 
feels a sharp pain in his side, is borne to the earth 
by some irresistible power, where he lies moaning, 
and writhing in agony. 


CHAPTER III 


Now that Mrs. Snubbody- Jones approved of the 
war, Mr. Roosevelt Willoughby suddenly bloomed 
out as an ardent patriot. He followed the move- 
ments of the army with keen interest, and enthused 
over the naval victories. He could not wonder 
that our efforts were everywhere crowned with 
success when society was with the soldiers in spirit. 
How it must inspire those brave fellows to feel that 
the Uppercrust-Millers and Saltearths were ap- 
plauding them ! And the consciousness of Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones’s approval must hang over them 
like a presiding genius. 

So Mr. Willoughby reasoned, at least, and he 
gave way to the promptings of patriotism. The 
fact that Mrs. Snubbody- Jones had permitted her- 
self to indorse the government was of greater con- 
sequence in his eyes than the stand any of the pow- 
ers of Europe might take on this same issue. The 
great American people had every reason to feel per- 
fectly satisfied with themselves at last. 

Moreover, society was making a fad of trying 
to do something for the comfort of the soldiers. 
When Mr. Willoughby saw people of the highest 


393 


394 


SAINT MAMMON 


standing going out of their way to do this, he de- 
cided that their lot was not so hard, after all. 
Dainty ladies whowere queens of the drawing-room 
did not hesitate to visit hospitals, and take delica- 
cies to the sick and wounded heroes. The heart of 
the whole nation went out to these brave fellows 
in the hour of triumph, and it was only fitting that 
it should. For Johnny Trumps did not come march- 
ing home from Cuba with flags flying. He had to be 
carried home on a stretcher. There is no way of tell- 
ing just how many different kinds of fever there are 
in that unhappy isle, but Uncle Sam’s boys got all 
that were known to the natives, and some few 
besides. 

One day a transport came into the harbor having 
on board the members of the gallant N-th, whose 
deeds had made them famous. A great crowd went 
down to the pier to welcome them, in holiday fash- 
ion, but the sight they saw did not move them to 
even cheer. Men who were the image of death 
were carried off the ship on stretchers by comrades ; 
others tottered down the gangplank, only to faint 
with the effort of walking ashore. Not a man in 
the party but looked aged and broken. 

There was not a sound from the holiday throng 
at sight of this awful spectacle. Everyone was 
awed by it. Men looked on in pity, and women 
sobbed aloud. 

But in the reaction that followed such revela- 
tions there was some danger that the soldiers would 
be killed by over-indulgence. Fortunately, how- 


SAINT MAMMON 395 

ever, Uncle Sam came forward at this juncture and 
took command. He has been in the war business 
for some time, and he knows what to do in emer- 
gencies. In spite of the protests of their friends, 
in spite of the howls of the newspaper wiseacres, 
entire commands were hurried off to detention 
camps. 

Madge had fled away to Heathdale with Mrs. 
Tom Allers as soon as she heard about Jack. The 
friendship that had existed between these two wom- 
en revived and grew stronger in this hour of afflic- 
tion. They seemed to have become necessary to 
one another now. 

Mrs. Tom bore up bravely during the uncertain 
weeks that followed her husband’s departure, but 
she said afterward that it was because Madge was 
such a comfort to her. But when she got a tele- 
gram, saying Jack was alive, and would be brought 
home as soon as he could be moved, she cried like 
a baby. 

Who should show up in Heathdale one day but 
young Quizzledown, or rather the shadow of what 
he once had been. He was fresh from a fever 
hospital, and nothing but skin and bones. He 
swore that the greatest hardship he had to endure 
in the army was when he was cut off from his ciga- 
rette base of supplies, and to this fact he was in- 
clined to attribute his sufferings. He sought the 
clubhouse in Heathdale, where he could smoke to 
his heart’s content and fortify his wasted constitu- 
tion with the club cocktail. 


SAINT MAMMON 


39 6 

Now, because Mrs. Tom had some experience 
at nursing, and because she was eager for some- 
thing to do, in order to get her mind off her trou- 
bles, she persuaded Quizzledown to put himself in 
her charge. He agreed, quite cheerfully, to pose 
as an invalid for her benefit, although he had pinned 
his faith on the club cuisine. Mrs. Tom declared 
afterward if it had not been for this work she would 
have gone mad. 

One by one the rest of the exiles returned to 
Heathdale as they got discharged from the deten- 
tion camp, and Mrs. Tom had her hands full. Of 
course, the club cocktail required time to effect a 
cure, although every man of them swore by it. 
Charley Poindexter needed nothing but the sight 
of his view to make him forget his hardships. He 
had been in a bad way, but when he stood in front 
of his window, a glad light sprang into his eyes 
that prophesied a speedy recovery. It was rumored 
that Sergeant Mansfield’s mind had been affected, 
and there was danger that the trouble would be per- 
manent; but Stacey hastened to get his intellect 
down to billiard balls, and soon demonstrated that 
these reports were all moonshine. 

But Jockey Van Hurdle did not come back. 

Jack Allers was the last arrival. Tom had hard 
work to keep him out of a government hospital, 
even when he succeeded in getting him on Ameri- 
can soil. He insisted, however, that his brother 
was likely to die anyhow, so the authorities were 
persuaded to give him up to his family. Tom felt 


SAINT MAMMON 397 

sure that home, and home care, alone, would give 
him the only chance for his life. 

There was a silent demonstration in his honor 
when Heathdale was reached. Friendly faces greet- 
ed him with anxious glances, for Jack Allers’s deeds 
had been newspaper talk, and everybody thought 
a hero had come home to die. 


CHAPTER IV 


Our gentle muse must needs sigh for a breath- 
ing spell after the experiences it has had following 
in the wake of an army, and dwelling on such blood- 
curdling scenes. It would fain forget about bat- 
tles and murder and sudden death, and shut its 
ears to the din of arms. It would much prefer to 
bask in the sunshine of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones’s fa- 
vor, and revel in the full glory of a professionally- 
fashionable reputation. But it is forced to linger 
in the sick-chamber yet awhile, and give some at- 
tention to invalids. 

Poor Mrs. Tom ! The strain had been too much 
for her, and when Jack arrived she simply collapsed. 
She had borne up bravely, so far, but, worn out 
by anxiety now, she took to her bed, and the doctor 
forbade her to leave it, under penalty of a long 
siege of sickness. Hereupon, a singular thing hap- 
pened. 

Madge insisted on nursing Jack herself, although 
Tom protested against it stoutly, in the fear that 
she would overtax her strength. Mrs. Tom sec- 
onded her husband’s protest, but only in a half- 
hearted way. For she had come to have great faith 
in Madge’s ability, and she told Tom so. The 

398 


SAINT MAMMON 


399 

question was finally left to the doctor to decide, and 
he ultimately ruled in Madge’s favor. 

Now that doctor was a shrewd old chap, and he 
knew something of human nature, besides bodily 
ailments. He had diagnosed people’s diseases until 
he had come to be a good mind-reader. He was a 
deep old chap, and all at once he made a discov- 
ery. 

He noticed one day, when somebody came into 
the sick-chamber, the patient, all unconscious though 
he was, seemed to know that somebody was near. 
He was a little startled at first, but he soon found 
out other things equally surprising. When some- 
body rubbed the patient’s brow he stopped moan- 
ing, and when somebody held his hand he dropped 
off to sleep with a smile on his face. But he was 
a wise old chap, this family physician, and he kept 
his own counsel. 

Soon other symptoms appeared, and were care- 
fully noted. When somebody left the room, the 
patient got restless. When somebody came back, 
the patient grew better. When somebody fed him, 
the patient had appetite. When somebody adminis- 
tered medicine, the patient took a brace. Oh, he 
was a shrewd old chap, this doctor, and he believed 
there were things in disease not treated about in 
materia medica. 

He maintained a very sober bearing when in 
somebody’s presence. He talked very learnedly 
about the case, and used the biggest jaw-breaking 
words in the dictionary to describe the symptoms. 


400 


SAINT MAMMON 


All the same, he knew that there was one little word 
in somebody’s keeping that would settle things in 
short order. Oh, he was deep, deep, deep, and he 
understood this affair, all right. He looked grave- 
ly into somebody’s eyes, and read there a secret they 
were trying to conceal, but could not hide from 
him, because he was such a knowing doctor. To 
all outsiders he assumed a very professional, pom- 
pous air, looked as wise as an owl, and told every- 
body he was sure Jack Allers would pull through. 

He showed the same good sense in regard to his 
other patient. For when Mrs. Tom declared that 
the smell of her husband’s cigar was more to her 
than all his medicine, he told Tom to smoke in her 
room, and read to her, in order to quiet her. “And 
by the way,” he added, “let Miss Willoughby be 
with her patient, and don’t bother her. She is do- 
ing capitally.” Oh, he was a fine old doctor, and 
no mistake ! 

Tom Allers, too, must have become wise all at 
once, as he suddenly ceased to object to Madge’s 
self-imposed task. However, he was too much of 
an Allers to tell his suspicions to his wife. 

Thus it came about that Madge had her way, 
and she took care to prove herself equal to the un- 
dertaking. One day a great crisis came to her 
patient, and then it was demonstrated that the old 
physician was right. Except that she rose to the 
emergency, there is no telling how he would have 
pulled through it. But the doctor had warned her 


SAINT MAMMON 


401 


that she must act promptly, and fear nothing, as it 
was his only chance. 

In his wild delirium he went over his battles, but 
she was able to quiet him by simply rubbing his 
forehead till he stopped muttering and dropped 
asleep. Once he fell to calling her name, in ac- 
cents of despair, and then she was thankful no- 
body was around to hear him. She succeeded in 
quieting him, however, by assuring him that she 
was near him now, and would never be cruel to him 
again. He seemed just like a child, and she treated 
him as a mother would. 

But at last he came to himself, opened his eyes, 
and beheld her, and lo! the great crisis had come! 
She tried to be calm for his sake, but somehow she 
began to tremble violently. 

Jack sat up in bed and stared at her in a bewil- 
dered way, until at last he had recognized her. 

“Miss Willoughby! Madge!” 

“Hush !” she cried, raising a finger warningly. 

But a look came into his face he could not con- 
trol, and she saw heroic measures were necessary. 

She approached and bent over him, as he watched 
her with bated breath. She was calm now, but he 
was visibly agitated. 

She kissed him full on the lips. 

“There! I love you!” 

Then she drew away, with a timid laugh, and 
her face turned crimson. 

But their eyes met, and Jack understood. 

From that moment he began to get well. 


CHAPTER V 


At length there came a day when the old doctor 
ceased his visits to the house altogether, and every- 
body began to congratulate him for the way he had 
pulled his patient through. Jack Allers was not 
only on his feet again, as sound as a dollar, but he 
recovered so quickly that the medical fraternity, 
who knew about the case, and the gossips, who did 
not, were equally dazed by it. They crowded around 
the doctor now, and pestered him with questions. 
But he was a wise old boy, and the way he jollied 
his brethren of the craft, and stood off the gossips, 
was a credit to his erudition. He assumed an owl- 
like, professional air, contracted his eyebrows, 
pursed his lips, and gave them the biggest jaw- 
breaking words in the medical dictionaries. In fact, 
he went out of his way just to invent confusing 
phrases to apply to this case. He even wrote an 
article about it, which was published in a dry-as- 
dust medical paper, and was so technical as to be 
almost incomprehensible. Oh, he was a wise old 
chap, and he knew how to hide a delicate secret 
under scientific bombast. 

Now that Mrs. Tom was up again, the house 
took on its wonted cheerfulness. Her indisposition 


402 


SAINT MAMMON. 


403 

passed away with Jack’s recovery, and she was as 
irrepressible as ever. She could not thank Madge 
enough for taking her place by Jack’s side, and 
tending him as she would have done herself. She 
pressed her to her heart, and swore she would al- 
ways be a sister to her hereafter. She was proud 
of her skill as a nurse, and praised her to Tom, to 
Jack himself, to everybody. When people remarked 
the cure had been most miraculous, Mrs. Tom 
snapped her fingers, and said: “Fudge! All he 
needed was to get away from those horrid camps 
and have home care.” 

Tom Allers received his wife’s statements with 
a very grave face, which convinced her that he 
agreed with her for once in his life. But the fact 
was, Tom Allers was getting deep — -almost as deep 
as that old doctor. He had learned how to ac- 
count for things in mystifying language, and, Al- 
lers-like, he took care to keep his wife as much in 
the dark as possible. He suddenly discovered that 
she ought to take rides with him on pleasant after- 
noons. It was good for her health, and besides, 
the old doctor recommended it. Jack could be left 
with Madge, who had proved herself such a good 
nurse, and Mrs. Tom should consider her over- 
taxed constitution. Yes, Tom Allers was getting 
wise — almost as wise as the old doctor. 

Now it hath been mentioned already that there 
was a certain arbor situated in the midst of the Al- 
lers place, so surrounded by trees and shrubbery as 
to form a secret bower. But it has not been stated 


SAINT MAMMON 


4 ° 4 ! 

that there was one Miss Cynthia Hawkins, a 
maiden lady, living in the next house, on the same 
side of the street, which is to the point. She was 
a most estimable creature, albeit given to gossip, 
and reputed to be much concerned in the affairs of 
others. In particular, she was much interested in 
everything that took place in the Allers house- 
hold, because Mrs. Tom, who knew her weak- 
ness, did the most eccentric things whenever she 
saw Miss Cynthia looking her way, and thereby 
kept the gossips in a state of excitement. 

Therefore, it came to pass, when Jack and 
Madge were observed one afternoon to approach 
this arbor along the gravel path, and enter the 
shrubbery, Miss Cynthia Hawkins, aforemen- 
tioned, decided something must be in the wind 
worth telling the neighbors about at the next tea- 
drinking. 

The appearance of this young couple, we may 
add, was very suspicious. Madge was carrying a 
book, and Jack bent under the weight of a cushion. 
Miss Hawkins happened to be sitting at the kitchen 
window, cutting peaches for supper, and, as she 
herself declared, had no intention of spying on oth- 
er folks. But she put aside her work at once and 
turned to the clock to see what time it was. In 
this way she was able to calculate the exact second 
when they reached the arbor, allowing for the 
kitchen clock being just seven minutes slow. The 
author regrets to say that he has forgotten this 
important datum. 


SAINT MAMMON 


405 

Furthermore, he does not hesitate to state, with- 
out mental reservation whatsoever, that there is 
no way of telling what actually took place in that 
arbor. However, Miss Cynthia’s testimony must 
be admitted in court, and the reader, who is judge 
and jury in the matter, may reject it, if so minded. 

Miss Hawkins testifies as follows: 

That she is a single woman, and lives with a 
bachelor brother, who happened to have gone to 
market this afternoon. That she had no intention 
of meddling with the young folks, but only fell to 
^wondering whether they were going to stay to tea 
out in the arbor, as she knew others had done on 
pleasant days, because it was just the kind of a 
place a body would want to picnic in. That she 
could not see what they were doing, because of the 
shrubbery that intervened between her and the ar- 
bor aforementioned, and for this reason she climbed 
up into her garret to get a better view from her 
a«ttic. That she only saw another tree, or trees, 
obstructing the view, and then tried windows on 
the lower floor, with the same result. That she 
was careful, when looking out of a window, to turn 
the slats noiselessly, so they need not hear it, and 
have hard feelings toward her in consequence. That 
she afterward went out to the barn, and looked 
through the loft door, and the hen-house window. 
Failing in them, she returned to the house, taking 
care to keep on her side of the lot. That she tried 
the cellar window next, but there was a rose bush 
in the way. That just as she was about to give up 


SAINT MAMMON 


406 

she happened to think of the stoop door, and, being 
afraid to open it, looked through the keyhole. That 
after looking through the keyhole ten seconds, by 
the clock, she did get a glimpse of the interior of 
the arbor, and is willing to swear that she saw the 
couple holding hands, and sparking. 

At this point we intend to examine Miss Haw- 
kins’s evidence. 

The distance between her side door and this ar- 
bor must be five yards. Miss Hawkins confesses 
that she is near-sighted, and wears glasses, and even 
then has to squint in order to behold anything very 
far removed. Does it not stand to reason, then, 
that a woman, looking at an object so distant, 
through the narrow opening afforded by a keyhole, 
might be deceived in her vision? Moreover, she 
herself admits that she could not make out for at 
least ten seconds whether it was the young couple 
that she saw. Might it not be possible that she 
mistook something else for them ? Finally, is there 
not a probability of bushes or shrubs presenting 
themselves in such a way as to look like a man and 
woman holding hands? 

On this argument, ladies and gentlemen of the 
jury, we rest our case. 


CHAPTER VI 


One day Tom Allers announced that Jack and 
Madge ought to take drives together. He had 
chanced to meet the old doctor, who advised it. 
He said they had both been through a great ordeal, 
and needed this sort of recreation. Oh, he was a 
fine practitioner, this wise old doctor, and he al- 
ways prescribed the right thing for everybody. 

When Mrs. Tom heard what the old doctor had 
said she became alarmed, and insisted that Jack 
and Madge take a ride every pleasant day. 

Now there are some very charming views about 
Heathdale, and probably this old doctor could ap- 
preciate them, and wanted others to do the same. 
The landscape is wild and rugged, a veritable fairy 
land. The hills rise straight up from the banks of 
the noble Hudson, whose lazy waters seem to bathe 
their feet. The country for miles around is his- 
toric. Whig and Tory fought over it in the Revo- 
lutionary time, and Cowboy and Skinner harried it. 
You might expect to meet the shade of Rip Van 
Winkle here, or Hendrik Hudson and his outlaw 
crew. It is a region of poetry, of legend, of ro- 
mance. 

But you have to be in love with a pretty girl, as 
Jack Allers was, in order to appreciate this scenery, 


SAINT MAMMON 


408 

and she must be by your side, so that you may feel 
the magic of her presence in nature itself. The 
soft languor of her dreamy eyes must be on river, 
hill, and forest. The grand old Hudson below 
must flash them back, and the sunbeams must steal 
some of their luster. Little birds must spring out 
of the underbrush, and chirp, “I know! I know! 
But I won’t tell ! Chickadee-dee ! Chickadee-dee !” 
The wind that sighs through the trees must whis- 
per a secret with which all the forest is in sympa- 
thy. The little brook you cross must babble mer- 
rily about it as it hurries away to tell the old river 
the news. The wildflowers must open their petals, 
and gossip together, so as to have something to en- 
tertain the fairies with when they come at moon- 
light. 

So it seemed to Jack Allers now. Everything 
was rejoicing, everything in nature was in the secret, 
and sympathized with him. Why, one saucy little 
bird sprang up in a hedge, cocked its little eye at 
him, and straightway began carolling the whole 
story, so that its mate could hear, the trees, the 
flowers, and the gossipy brook. Even the fairies, 
asleep in the cool shade of the woods, learned some- 
thing of it in their dreams, because they caught the 
notes of the song, and thought a fairy grandmother 
was crooning a lullaby. 

Madge’s eyes were here, were there, were every- 
where. The beauty of her cheeks was reflected 
from the foliage, and the incense of her breath was 
wafted from fields rich with thyme and aftermath. 


SAINT MAMMON 


409 

He noted how the crickets began to chirp to the 
euphony of her name, and the katydids joined in 
their chorus. 

Ah ! that first proof of love ! Who does not 
feel sympathy for it? That first little thrill that 
springs into consciousness in the breast! That 
maiden blush, half eagerness, half self-reproach ! 
That timid smile of affection, just revealed ! What 
is there in human nature more worthy of venera- 
tion ? The memory of them will live in the heart, 
to keep love alive when youth hath fled, and desire 
along with it. 

After all, it takes a gentleman to be a lover, and 
the more of a gentleman a man is the better lover 
he makes. A woman — and, therefore, to be re- 
vered. With all her charms, her virtues, her faults ; 
with all her whims and vagaries, pouting, teasing, 
mocking, hating, forgiving, loving — a woman still. 
Reproach her if you will; censure her, if you must; 
condemn her, if you can, for some act that seems 
cruel, and the next moment you will be championing 
her because of her sex. You may pick out a thou- 
sand flaws in her character, you may read all her 
weaknesses, and bewail them, but — you will only 
end by loving her the more because she has them 
all. 

For she is a woman, and, therefore, to be hu- 
mored, to be excused, to be ruled by the law of love 
alone. Men never reason consistently about her 
because she has set all their rules at defiance. 

What man is able to look into some maiden’s 


'4io 


SAINT MAMMON 


eyes without feeling his senses reel ? What son of 
woman will not bow down to the daughters of men 
and do their will, just as the first lover did when he 
lost Eden for his infatuation? The story that was 
told in Paradise when the earth was new, was left 
unfinished, and the sons of Adam have been telling 
it to the daughters of Eve ever since, and yet it is 
unfinished still, and will be, so long as man and 
maid mate together. Love is an old, old chord, 
that many a one hath harped on, but there will 
always be sweet music in it. 

“A penny for your thoughts !” Madge cried, and 
the sound of her voice roused Jack Allers from his 
reverie. 

“I’m afraid you would not give that much for 
them if you knew what they are,” he answered. 

“Then, sir, I insist upon knowing!” 

“Well, if you must have the truth, I was just 
thinking of Mabel Watterson.” 

“And who, pray, may she be?” 

“A girl I once met at a Harvard commencement. 
It seems a long time ago now, too.” 

Madge’s eyes flashed with jealousy. Love was a 
new thing to her, and to have Jack even think of 
another girl in her presence was not to be endured. 
What right had he to think of anybody else, any- 
how? It was her first experience with the green- 
eyed monster. 

The little bird uttered a note of alarm, and fled 
far into the forest. The wind moaned among the 
tree-tops, and a black cloud obscured the face of 


SAINT MAMMON 


4i i 

the sun. The brightness left the surface of the 
river, and the little brook sobbed dismally among 
the rough stones. The chirp of the cricket and the 
voice of the katydid were hushed, and the flowers 
quivered on their stalks. Hark ! Back in the woods 
an owl hooted, and a snake glided across the road, 
in front of the carriage, and disappeared among the 
dank weeds. 

And yet Jack could only think how beautiful 
Madge looked as she sat there, her whole counte- 
nance burning with the reflection of those haughty 
eyes. Would angels turn their faces away from her 
at this moment, or would they, too, be dazzled as 
he was? Men are not angels, and they, at least, 
could not withhold their admiration from her, so 
roused, so defiant. 

“Why do you think of her now?” she asked, in 
a low voice. Jack could see the pout on her lips. 

“Because she first taught me what love is, and 
you have finished the lesson,” he answered, with a 
laugh at her show of temper. 

Then he moved closer and bent down and whis- 
pered in her ear: 

“Madge! Madge! Let me tell you a dream I 
had once when I was sick, and hovering between 
life and death. I did not want to live, because I 
thought you did not care for me, and I was debat- 
ing with myself whether I had not better die. All 
at once — was it a dream ? — I fancied you came be- 
fore me, and I called you by name. You bent over 
me, kissed me full on the lips, and whispered, ‘I 


412 


SAINT MAMMON 


love you !’ And then I wanted to live for you, and 
you only. Oh, my darling ! That kiss put life and 
health and hope into me, and made me feel well 
again. With the new throb that came to my heart 
came also love for you, which is part of my exist- 
ence now. I am here alive to-day because you bade 
me live. Tell me now, darling, was it only a dream, 
or is it to be a reality? Tell me — because if you 
do not love me, as I love you, I wish I had died !” 

Madge’s face was crimson now. Her head bent 
down lower and lower, to hide her confusion. When 
at last she spoke, it was faintly. 

“Oh, Jack! You won’t despise me, if I tell you 
the truth?” 

“Darling, how can I, when I love you so?” 

“Then, Jack, it — it wasn’t a dream. It — it was 
real. I — l did it to save your life, because, if you 
had died, I wanted to die also.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Mrs. Tom Allers had one of her furies, and 
Tom should have trembled for himself. 

She had just found out, by merest accident, that 
Jack had been making love to Madge right under 
her nose, and that Madge had been encouraging 
him, without letting her know anything about it. 

“Oh, dear ! Tom, what shall we do ?” she asked 
her unmoved spouse, who sat smoking his cigar, 
just as he would do if the house were on fire. So 
aggravating, and so Allers-like ! 

“Do, love?” asked Tom in turn. “Do nothing, 
like sensible people. They are both of age, and 
can take care of themselves.” 

Now wasn’t that like an Allers ? Mrs. Tom was 
in despair. 

“Tom Allers, are you in your senses, or is this 
all due to the fact that you are an Allers, and too 
good-natured to live? Do you realize that this 
courtship has taken place in this house, without our 
knowledge or consent, and everybody will suppose 
we are at the bottom of it? Do you know that 
Madge was under our charge, and it was our duty 
to look after her?” 

As Tom did not appear to be staggered by these 


413 


414 - 


SAINT MAMMON 


statements, his wife found courage to pass on to 
the more heinous aspects of the case. 

“Do you know that Jack carried on this affair 
right under our noses, and gave us no warning of 
what he was doing?” 

Still Tom did not seem inclined to cry out against 
his brother’s sins, so she let him have what she 
considered the worst feature of all. 

“Did you ever imagine that Cousin Roosevelt 
may think we have trapped Madge here just to put 
her in Jack’s way?” 

This remark aroused Tom, at last, and, to her 
amazement, he was moved to assert himself. 

“I do not know about that,” he said, “and I 
don’t care, either. He was glad to have us take 
his niece off his hands for a while. I can tell him 
one thing, though. He need not come any of his 
airs on my brother Jack.” 

Then, for an instant, something like a frown 
settled itself on Tom’s serene forehead. 

What! An Allers touchy! An Allers having 
pride ! 

In the novelty of this discovery Mrs. Tom forgot 
her vexation. She flew at Tom, and began to maul 
him as she would a tame bear. She pulled his cigar 
out of his hands and began to study him all over, 
as if he were being metamorphosed right in her 
presence. 

Tom submitted docilely enough, and, when she 
had finished, accepted his cigar again, took a puff 
at it, and arranged his collar. Now she knew he 


SAIN T MAMMON 4 1 5 

was only himself, and straightway became dispir- 
ited. 

“Oh, dear ! I am just ready to give up !” 

At this point Tom had his say, and, of course, 
he argued just like an Allers. But he must have 
been getting ideas from that wise old doctor of late, 
for he talked just like him. This was the gist of 
what he said to her: 

Jack was of age, and he was able to shift for 
himself. He had a better income than Tom had, 
and was not a fool. As to the underhand part of 
it, he begged his wife to remember that they them- 
selves had been guilty of a deal of duplicity during 
their courtship. Some of Mrs. Tom’s relations had 
opposed their marriage, and had snubbed her for 
not accepting a man they chose for her, and thereby 
saved her the trouble of falling in love. 

This kind of argument gradually allayed Mrs. 
Tom’s fears, and she began to be reconciled to the 
course of events. It was all so Allers-like, anyhow ! 
She would just like to pound Jack, though, and she 
said as much. 

For the present, however, she consoled herself 
by making Tom the recipient of much demonstra- 
tive affection, which he bore complacently, as an 
Allers should. 

Tom had her all calmed down by the time Jack 
and Madge returned from their drive, but the sight 
of this couple, looking so guilty, and so happy, was 
too much for her. 


4i 6 


SAIN Z MAMMON 


“Oh, you two!” she cried. “You two! I know 
all about it ! I have found out !” 

Then she sprang up and grabbed Madge, and 
began to maul her. Then she pounded Jack. Then 
she mauled Madge again. Then she pounded Jack 
again. Then she pounded Tom. Then she grabbed 
Madge, mauled her, and began to pound every- 
body. 

At last she took Madge in her arms and began 
to sob, and perhaps Madge’s tears flowed also. 
Women are so soft-hearted ! Soon the water-works 
were going full force, as these two silly creatures 
hugged each other and sobbed together. 

At this embarrassing juncture Tom Allers did 
something that would have been a credit to that 
wise old doctor himself. He had been sitting there 
stolidly, smoking his cigar, but now he got off a 
joke that set everybody to laughing. It was such 
a dry effort, with absolutely no point to it at all, 
but, coming from him, it was greeted with a roar, 
that relieved the situation at once. 


BOOK IX 


CHAPTER I 

Heathdale was waking up to a new existence, 
and our old friend, Hamilton Bloodgood, thought 
his opportunity was coming with its rejuvenation. 
Society had discovered the place at last, and a 
Heathdale set was one of the possibilities in the near 
future. Hamilton had built a fine house there, and 
had also attached a kennel, that was bound to at- 
tract attention. He felt that the fashionable world 
would vindicate him for his devotion to dogs. 

The reader will please remember that we are 
treating of American society at its formative pe- 
riod, when the reign of Mammon was beginning 
in earnest. Surely, the study of this exclusive sci- 
ence cannot fail to be interesting. Its gradual rise, 
from a mere pastime up to a profession, offers an 
inviting theme for the student of contemporary life. 
There are special lines of it, too, and only those 
who devote all their enthusiasm to it can understand 
how complex these are. Society is a calling, and 
is fast becoming an art, in this land of strenuous 
enterprise. 

417 


SAINT MAMMON 


418 

It had become evident to those in a position to 
appreciate the situation that a few people could not 
monopolize it. Its diverse interests must be prop- 
erly divided, and different cliques should have ex- 
clusive fields in which to exploit themselves. Local 
sets were all the rage now, with everything leading 
up to Newport, and, therefore, Heathdale rejoiced. 

None of the natives were more jubilant over its 
prospects than Hamilton Bloodgood. Perhaps he 
hoped there would be a dog set in society, and then 
his opportunity would come. 

The honest fellow needed something to encour- 
age him in these days, for he was having opposi- 
tion from two distinct sources. In the first place, 
his wife had taken a firm stand on the dog ques- 
tion, so that the situation was decidedly strained. 

We regret to say that Hamilton had found it 
difficult to convince Lillian that a man who could 
take ribbons at a dog show might claim to be en- 
rolled among the world’s famous men. Lillian re- 
fused to share his enthusiasm, having a decided dis- 
like for dogs anyhow. Furthermore, she declined 
to permit them in the house, to roam about it at 
will, and transform it into an annex to the kennels. 

At a council of war, over which his mother pre- 
sided, Hamilton was forced to give way to her. 
His mother ruled that the house belonged to Lil- 
lian, and she had the right to run it her way. The 
elder Mrs. Bloodgood also insisted that Hamilton 
should not live in the kennels altogether, and there- 
by deprive his wife of his company. 


SAINT MAMMON 


419 


Therefore, the honest fellow welcomed the ad- 
vent of society to Heathdale, believing that it would 
vindicate him for his devotion to his pets. 

In addition to the trouble he had on Lillian’s 
account, his father had tried to make things unpleas- 
ant for him. The elder Bloodgood hoped that his 
son’s marriage would have the effect of sobering 
him, but when he saw him still going in for dogs 
his disgust knew no bounds. As Hamilton put it, 
his father wanted him to become a money shark 
and forget everything in the scramble for dollars, 
whereas Hamilton would rather take a prize at the 
dog show than be president of a banking syndicate. 
When he heard of the new kennels, his sire lost 
faith in him altogether. 

Indeed, if it had not been for Hamilton’s mother 
he would have taken action against him. She inter- 
fered, however, with the result that a compromise 
was effected ere hostilities could begin. In this 
way it was arranged that Hamilton should amuse 
himself as he chose. At the same time, his father 
announced, tragically, that he washed his hands of 
his son’s affairs, and would not be responsible for 
the consequences of his folly. 

Things were in this state when Jack and Madge 
called one day to announce their engagement. 
Madge’s first thought was of her foster sister at 
this time, and Jack shared her feelings. He was 
fond of Lillian, and had always liked Hamilton 
Bloodgood. He defended him against the gossips 
on all occasions, and he took his part with Madge 


420 


SAINT MAMMON 


once in a way she had been able to appreciate. It 
was when Hamilton first began to devote himself 
to Lillian, and Madge was in the secret. Rumors 
of his dissipations, which she would otherwise have 
ignored, alarmed her on Lillian’s account. Jack 
was able to satisfy her on this head, however. 

He argued that Hamilton was more sinned 
against than sinning. In his opinion, Mr. Blood- 
good, Senior, was money mad. Jack was in Wall 
Street himself, and knew what its temptations were. 
Hamilton was wise in giving his enthusiasm to oth- 
er things. 

Jack then said something else in this connec- 
tion which, while it did not bear on the case at 
hand, made an impression on Madge. But, for 
that matter, she was very proud of Jack when he 
was airing his opinions, and she* was glad to listen 
to him on any subject. He always had an original 
way of putting his arguments. 

He declared that there was a secret chapter in 
the financial history of America. After the Civil 
War we were a down-and-out nation. Previous 
to that period we had been England’s greatest rival 
in the carrying trade of the world. After the war 
England had the field to herself. 

Now the English are the greatest of modern dip- 
lomats, They practically told us that if we would 
keep away from the sea hereafter they would save 
us from bankruptcy. We were forced to accept 
these terms, and accordingly turned to the devel- 
opment of internal wealth on borrowed capital. In 


SAINT MAMMON 421 

order to free ourselves from our creditor we had 
invented the American financial system, which was 
without a peer in history. 

But, of course, there was evil in it, as well as 
good. Any man that can’t give all his attention to 
it, so that he can live for it alone, had better not 
touch it. 

Coming now to the case of Hamilton Blood- 
good, he was a disappointment to his father, no 
doubt; but he was justified in the stand he took 
when he refused to settle down in his father’s of- 
fice and devote his life to something he detested. 
There was money enough in the family already, 
without forcing the son to get more. Perhaps the 
time may be at hand when rich Americans can de- 
vote their lives to other things than money grub- 
bing, without being thought worthless. A leisure 
class was not always a harm to a nation. On the 
contrary, all civilizations have called for it. Amer- 
ica must accept one sooner or later. 

It would be a waste of effort to attempt to de- 
scribe the scene that took place between Lillian and 
Madge when the latter made known the secret of 
her engagement. Therefore, we will leave the two 
young women to retire to the house to talk things 
over without interference from men and dogs, while 
Jack inspected the kennels. 

He was surprised at the sight of these. They 
had been fixed up regardless of expense, and with 
a view to the owner using them as a living apart- 


422 


SAINT MAMMON 


ment if the house was denied to him. Hamilton 
Bloodgood stood on the same plane as his pets in 
regard to his domestic arrangements. Matrimony 
without dogs was a failure from his standpoint. 


CHAPTER II 


The exiles of the Mercury Club had recovered 
from the fatigue of the campaign and had settled 
down to an Arcadian life again. Tame as it seemed, 
in comparison with the excitement they had known 
of late, they managed to stand it very well, being 
fortified by the club cocktail against ennui. 

There had been a decided change of sentiment 
in Heathdale in their favor. Those who had been 
hostile to them heretofore were loud in their praises 
now, and if they felt the need of champions at any 
time they had only to announce the fact. There 
was a feeling in some quarters that these young men 
were heroes, and should be treated accordingly. 

However, the exiles were not the kind of lads 
to have their heads turned by such sudden adula- 
tion. They were too gamey, and bore this praise 
with the equanimity that they had borne censure 
from the same source. One day an enthusiastic 
Philistine, coming to the clubhouse, ventured to 
congratulate Charley Poindexter on the part he 
had played in the late unpleasantness, but Poindex- 
ter turned on him with a frown so resentful that 
the Philistine wilted at once. Bad form was the 


4*3 


4 2 4 SAINT MAMMON 

explanation Poindexter afterward gave to excuse 
his rudeness. 

Nevertheless, there were moments when the war 
would be discussed among them, from the stand- 
point of the part they had played in it. When ciga- 
rettes had been lit, and the cocktail was circulating, 
and that genial fellowship prevailed which clubmen 
know so well how to appreciate, the exiles permit- 
ted themselves to do a little bragging on the club’s 
account and their own. At such times they agreed 
it lay between Charley Poindexter and Jack Allers 
as to who made the best record in the army, and 
when they told how Stacey Mansfield had acted at 
El Paso, Stacey took care to keep his intellect down 
to billiard balls, lest this sort of talk should swell 
his head. 

But whenever they mentioned Jockey Van 
Hurdle’s name it was with visible emotion. 

“Jockey picked winners at last,” Dick Twad- 
dleby said. “If ever a man died a hero, it was he.” 

The rest of the exiles agreed with this, and, in- 
deed, the story of his sacrifice, as told by the officer 
who was with him at the time, while it differed 
somewhat from the first account, proved the truth 
of this statement. 

This officer was out to locate the enemy, but had 
not succeeded. The army was pushing forward in 
the rear, and the general must know his position 
without delay. The officer suspected an ambush 
somewhere in front, and it was imperative he should 
find out where it was ; but he hesitated to send any 


SAINT MAMMON 


425 


man on such an errand, as it meant certain destruc- 
tion. He halted his command, and explained the 
situation. Jockey volunteered to go and find out, 
and the volley that killed him told where the dan- 
ger lay. 

Of course, Dick Twaddleby had to air his opin- 
ion of the conflict for the edification of the exiles, 
and the feeling was that he knew what he was talk- 
ing about, and could give pointers to historians. 

“It was a football war,” he declared one day. 
“We scored on Spain whenever we wanted to, and 
we scored quick. The game was practically set- 
tled in the first half. We put ginger into our play, 
and plunged right through their lines. It was soon 
demonstrated that Spain was unable to check our 
interference.” 

“Right you are, Richard !” Stacey Mansfield 
(late sergeant) said, as he drew a bead on a billiard 
ball. 

Richard : “If we had let Spain score against us, 
it would have been disgraceful. In fact, if Spain 
had even been able to advance the ball, the rooters 
on the side lines would have howled at us.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “We fought with the limelight full 
upon us. Our heroes were playing to the galleries 
all the time, and every once in a while they rested 
on their arms to catch the applause.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “Our government ought to feel very 
grateful to Spain, though, for consenting to make 


SAINT MAMMON 


'426 

a target of her ships just for our new navy to 
practice on. Think, too, how considerate it was 
to permit our army to do a little amateur fighting 
in her colonies, so as to find out how to conduct 
itself in actual warfare. Uncle Sam ought to be 
willing to foot the bill without grumbling.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “Then, too, it was an object-lesson to 
certain friends of ours. There are fellows across 
the pond who like to go around shooting their ideas 
into people, and call it civilizing them. They know 
now Uncle Sam is a hornets’ nest, and they had bet- 
ter let him alone.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “There is our dear John Bull, who 
has been trying to tell us for the past hundred years 
or more that the Declaration of Independence is 
bad form, because he did not write it himself, and 
he was put out because we couldn’t see it. Now he 
is running around patting himself because he rooted 
for us in this war, and laughing at the fellows who 
rooted for Spain. The result is, even Bunker Hill 
is forgotten, and the Anglo-Saxon has found his 
better half again.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “The way things are going now, lots 
of people will suddenly discover how they have 
always loved us, and have just been waiting for a 
chance to tell us so. Then the next time we get into 
a wrangle with some power about the ownership of 
a swamp in Central America, where there is noth- 


SAINT MAMMON 427 

ing doing but alligators and yellow fever, some of 
our dear friends will go so far as to say they don’t 
care what flag floats over those alligators, and they 
never did, anyhow.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “Oh, it’s a great thing to be rated as 
a first-class power, and your Uncle Sam has got 
that now. If you don’t believe it, just look in 
Bradstreet’s.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard : “Europe ought to have taken a sensi- 
ble view of the Monroe Doctrine in the first place, 
and I think she will now. The native American 
is no fool. He took title to all the good land over 
here long ago, and any acres left are given over 
to fevers and earthquakes, and are not worth fight- 
ing about.” 

Stacey : “Right you are, Richard.” 

Richard: “Why, if it were not for the Monroe 
Doctrine, some sharper would be selling one of 
those emperors land on the bottom of the ocean.” 

Stacey: “Right you are, Richard.” 

Dick further declared that the most dangerous 
thing our heroes had to face, according to all evi- 
dence, was the army ration ; but, then, Richard was 
a sad wag, and would strain a point, sometimes, 
in order to raise a laugh. 

Young Quizzledown was having no end of fun 
with Methuselah in these days, and felt that it re- 
paid him for all he had endured in the army, in 
the way of being forced to forego cigarettes. The 


SAINT MAMMON 


428 

old patriarch had come out a fierce anti-expansion- 
ist, and was for hauling down the flag from Fort 
Sumter to Manila. The contemptuous way in 
which he repudiated his own arguments when Quiz- 
zledown quoted them back to him was ludicrous in 
the extreme. 

The fact of the matter was, the exiles were very 
happy now. They had proved to their own satis- 
faction that they were not mollycoddles, and they 
may be pardoned a little vanity for feeling a bit 
conceited about it. Besides, Charley Poindexter 
declared one day that the blowing up of the Maine 
was very bad form, and then every man of them 
realized what a hero he had been to serve in the 
army. 

A rumor had reached them to the effect that 
Heathdale was soon to become a fashion resort, 
and the exiles took credit to themselves for having 
been the first to discover it. They realized that the 
club had great opportunities, and they would be 
careful to make the most of them. There was 
bound to be an increase in membership, and new 
fields of usefulness would be opened to it. Me- 
thuselah would have to be suppressed, of course, 
before they could hope to do anything. He had 
blackballed every man that joined after him, and 
would doubtless continue the practice. The exiles 
saw a chance here to inculcate a proper apprecia- 
tion for bad form among new members, and they 
congratulated themselves that they had found a mis- 
sion in life at last. 


SAINT MAMMON 


429 


One day a little bird fluttered into the clubhouse 
and began to warble such a pretty tale about Jack 
Allers and a young lady the exiles had met, that 
the most cynical of them were fascinated by it. Un- 
der the excitement which the little bird’s message 
had caused, somebody even went so far as to state 
boldly that matrimony is not bad form, and many 
a hardened exile sighed assent to this. 

On the other hand, there were two of their num- 
ber who did not thrill at this news. Charley Poin- 
dexter was somewhat disappointed by it. From the 
fuss that was being made he had been led to sup- 
pose that somebody had discovered a new feature 
in his view, and for a moment his pulse beat quick- 
er; whereas, Stacey Mansfield kept his intellect 
right down to billiard balls, refusing to be hypno- 
tized. 

“That thing was practically settled ages ago,” 
was his only comment; but the subject could hardly 
be a pleasant one, when he reflected what a fool he 
had been to offer Poindexter odds in this very con- 
nection. 


CHAPTER III 


It would be impossible to persuade Mrs. Tom 
Allers that Jack was a hero. The mere fact that 
he was only an Allers belittled him in her eyes. 
Nevertheless, Heathdale was proclaiming him, and 
all the world indorsed its judgment. The wonder 
is that Jack did not become vain under so much 
praise. 

Not only so, but one day Mrs. Snubbody- Jones 
permitted herself to remember that she had met 
Mr. Allers, and approved him. Hereupon, Mr. 
Roosevelt Willoughby enrolled himself among his 
champions. 

Bless my soul ! He never realized how much he 
thought of that young man ! He had been im- 
pressed with him the first time he laid eyes on him, 
and always believed he would do great things. 

As it turned out, this change of front in regard 
to him was a good thing for Jack, when rumors 
reached Mr. Willoughby one day that the young 
man aforesaid was likely to rob him of his niece. 
Mr. Willoughby had such a horror of sentiment 
and matrimony that he would have raised objec- 
tions of a most serious kind, except that Mrs. Snub- 
body-Jones’s approval reconciled him to the issue. 

43 ° 


SAIN T MAMMON 43 1 

If Jack had only known how he felt about the mat- 
ter he would have worried less over the charge 
Madge laid on him in this connection. 

It seemed there was some mystery about her birth 
and parentage, which she insisted her future hus- 
band should know. She commissioned Jack to go 
to her uncle, announce the engagement, and demand 
the facts. Then he was to come to her and let her 
know if it made any difference in his love for her. 

Jack was too much of an Allers, and too Ameri- 
can, to attach much importance to this matter. Nev- 
ertheless, he obeyed the command, it must be con- 
fessed, in some trepidation. He felt that he was 
bearding the lion in his den when he presented him- 
self before Madge’s guardian one day to formally 
ask his consent to their marriage. 

Fortunately, he found the lion in the best of 
humor. He had just received a letter from Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones announcing that society was at her 
feet again. In this epistle she very graciously per- 
mitted herself to add that she felt under obliga- 
tions to Mr. Willoughby for the way he had cham- 
pioned her during the late social crisis. 

The submission of the elect was absolute and 
complete, and the effect of it was sure to be far- 
reaching. No one doubted now that some conserva- 
tive influence was necessary to save the fashionable 
world from itself. Moreover, it had been demon- 
strated to the satisfaction of everybody that with- 
out the leadership of Mrs. Snubbody- Jones it might 
become the plaything of outsiders and new people. 


43 2 SAINT MAMMON 

It began to look now as if a society trust was 
in sight. 

We like to believe that only the good prosper in 
the world, and it always pleases us to hear of the 
reward that has come to those who lead a virtuous 
life. Consequently, the writer cannot repress a 
feeling of satisfaction in introducing Mr. Roosevelt 
Willoughby, secure, at last, in the favor of Mrs. 
Snubbody- Jones. 

It ought to be an encouragement to those weary 
pilgrims who are overburdened in their journey 
through this vale of tears. 

He felt very much elated by the news of his 
patroness’s success. Things had turned out just 
as he expected, and there was no telling what social 
triumphs were in store for him hereafter. When 
a Heathdale set should be recognized he would 
probably be the most prominent figure in it. 

He had already determined to make some 
changes in his domestic arrangements, in order to 
meet the demands of his new position. He would 
have to go about more, and Willoughby Manor 
would see very little of him from this time forward. 
Right down in his heart, too, he decided it would 
be a relief to get rid of Madge. She was danger- 
ous, and might interfere with his plans. 

Therefore, Jack Allers should have been less 
timid about offering to take the girl off his hands 
entirely. 

He went at the matter bluntly enough, and it 
pleased him to find that his first advances were not 


SAINT MAMMON 


433 


frowned upon. The preliminaries over, Jack grew 
quite bold, and announced that he wished to build 
a home in Heathdale, and would take charge of 
Mr. Willoughby’s invalid sister, if there were no 
objections. Madge was eager to have her aunt 
live with them, it seemed. Mr. Willoughby kept 
silent, to be sure, but this might be accepted as his 
approval of all plans relating to any members of 
his household. At least, Jack so interpreted it. 

Madge had flown upstairs to tell Aunt Kate all 
about it. She hardly had time to make her blush- 
ing confession to the sweet invalid, however, when 
the word came from below that the course of true 
love would be all plain sailing. 

“You may come down, Madge,” Jack called out 
from the foot of the stairway. 

This was the prearranged signal between this 
pair of conspirators by which they agreed to stand 
together in forcing Mr. Willoughby’s hand. 

Madge came tripping down the stairs at once, 
looking prettier, Jack thought, than he had ever 
seen her before. 

“It is all right, Madge,” he said, as she stood for 
a moment, irresolute, on the threshold. He had 
reference to the family secret. 

But Mr. Willoughby put another interpretation 
on his words. 

“Hem! I have not said so yet.” 

He regretted his remark a moment later, because 
it served to introduce a scene which was very pain- 
ful to him — very painful, indeed. 


434 


SAINT MAMMON 


‘‘Now, Uncle,” Madge cried, “it will have to be 
all right. I have chosen Jack, and Jack has chosen 
me, and while we wish to be dutiful ” 

She got no further, for, disregarding Mr. Wil- 
loughby’s presence altogether, Jack caught her in 
his arms, and here followed a scene that caused Mr. 
Roosevelt to break out into a cold perspiration. 

“God bless my soul !” 

It was the most un-Willoughby-like thing he had 
ever witnessed. 

“God bless my soul!” 

“It will be all right, now, sir, won’t it?” Jack 
asked again. 

“Oh! — oh! — oh! — oh, yes! Certainly!” Mr. 
Willoughby cried, in desperation. 



CONCLUSION 

Our story is ended now, to the tinkling of wed- 
ding bells, in the good old fairy-tale fashion, as 
a romance should. Jack and Madge were mar- 
ried, and lived happily ever after. 

Mrs. Tom Allers announced that she was going 
to have one of her furies when the event took place, 
but she was able to bear up under the ordeal, thanks 
to Tom, and even took a prominent part in the 
ceremony. 

But, to all appearances, the most gratified party 
at the wedding was Mr. Willoughby himself. He 
cut a superb figure at the reception, to which he 
took care only the best people should be invited, 


435 



SAINT MAMMON 


43 6 

and was conspicuous by his stately bearing and 
courtly bow. From the way he treated the young 
couple, everybody was led to suppose that the match 
was entirely of his own making. It was remarked 
however, that he kept away from them until they 
had recovered from the effects of the honeymoon, 
and settled down like ordinary mortals. 

He is very happy now, still keeping bachelor’s 
hall, and hobnobbing with great society folk. As 
he was no longer haunted by the fear of passing 
out of the memory of Mrs. Snubbody-Jones, he 
seemed to find new joy in life, and grow younger 
with his years. 

Then, too, another event happened which con- 
tributed not a little to the comfort of this excellent 
man. His sister, Mrs. Wadham Adams, gave up 
her charities, to the relief of everybody, thereby 
vindicating the Willoughby that was born in her. 
Having lost her husband, and being childless, she 
came to live with Mr. Willoughby, and proved 
herself a blessing to her invalid sister. At her 
brother’s suggestion, she made her peace with the 
fashionable set, so that all her eccentricities were 
forgiven and forgotten. 

Lillian of the Haughty Face finally became 
reconciled to her husband’s hobby, and like a dutiful 
wife decided to make the best of the situation. For, 
when sons were born to her they took to dogs in a 
way that overcame her aversion. As mere tots they 
made bull-pups their play-fellows, and howled lusti- 


SAINT MAMMON 


437 

ly because they could not take the little animals to 
bed with them. 

Hereupon Lillian saw that fate was against her, 
and dogs must be admitted to her house on a foot- 
ing with the family. 

Honest Hamilton found home life very much to 
his liking after this, and would spend his evenings 
romping with his sons and the pups. Soon his ken- 
nels became famous, and his breed was in demand 
by the best fanciers. Lillian declared, however, 
that he made as much fuss over selling one of them 
as he would over selling one of his sons. 

We might spin out this story through another 
volume, telling how Dick Twaddleby, the wag, 
married an heiress, after all; how Charley Poin- 
dexter married Miss Bangup, and how Stacey 
Mansfield married Poindexter’s sister-in-law, as the 
result of a bet he made in a rash moment. For, one 
day, it came to pass, the exiles decided matrimony 
is not bad form, and no sooner had they come to 
this conclusion than they proceeded to fall into the 
snares Master Cupid is supposed to set for the un- 
wary. 

However, Stacey’s case had its ludicrous side. 
From mere force of habit he offered to bet Poin- 
dexter he could marry his wife’s only sister within 
six months after his own wedding, when Poindexter 
not only snapped him up, but offered heavy odds 
to the contrary. The temptation was too much for 
Stacey. He went straight to the girl and told her 


SAINT MAMMON 


438 

about it, and she took him, and won the money 
for him. Everybody admitted that if Poindexter 
had not given him such big odds Stacey would have 
remained a bachelor. 

Neither must we forget to chronicle the fact that 
a son was born to Mr. and Mrs. Tom Allers. How 
it ever managed to live, after the way its mother 
hugged and mauled it, is a marvel; but it did, nev- 
ertheless, and grew up the picture of health, and a 
regular Allers all over. 

People used to wonder why the late Mrs. Hum- 
phrey Provost, who had shaken the dust of America 
off her feet, still kept up a correspondence with 
Madge, and was always inviting her to visit her in 
Europe. They wondered more when Madge ac- 
cepted these invitations, but they never knew the 
truth. 

Thus our tale has spun itself out so that nothing 
is left now except for the author to make his best 
bow ere the curtain goes down for the last time. 
Verily, the world is Mammon’s, and under his pat- 
ronage the carnival of luxury, extravagance, and 
pride goes on without let or hindrance, so that the 
mystery is that it does not all end in suicide. He 
hath fettered us with golden chains, we who might 
be free, and masters of our own destiny; and, like 
poor fools, we take pleasure in listening to the jin- 
gle of our bonds. There is something ludicrous in 
this faith of ours in the healing power of riches, 
except that it is also tragic. We have pinned our 


SAINT MAMMON 


439 

hopes on it without even stopping to ask whether 
it is only a vile superstition. 

As little children we prate the creed of Mam- 
mon, and seem to know by intuition what it means. 
As grown men and women, we find it beyond our 
power to resist its doctrines. Money is fast becom- 
ing a tyrant in this free America of ours. Are we 
not all down on our knees to it now, worshiping 
the golden calf, and is it not true that men of to-day 
go mad after wealth, just as in former ages men 
went mad after glory? 

Ah, well ! Perhaps we will come to our senses 
yet, and throw off this servitude, and redeem our- 
selves from bondage, even as our hero fathers did. 
Who can tell, and who cannot wish that the time 
of deliverance may be close at hand? 

American history is entering on a new epoch at 
the beginning of this twentieth century, and the 
American people are facing the crisis of their na- 
tional existence. Will they be true to the religion 
of their forefathers — a religion whose confession 
of faith sums up in the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence, which hath proclaimed liberty and justice for 
all mankind — or will they fling it aside and take up 
with an idolatry that has been the undoing of so 
many great nations ? 

Let the people decide for themselves. 

Satan, we know, sent Mammon into the world to 
strengthen himself with men, and corrupt their 
standards of virtue and morality; but Mammon 


440 


SAINT MAMMON 




turned traitor, like all emissaries of hell, and has 
gone on strengthening himself ever since at the 
expense of man and his master. 



The. ELnd 


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